


aaron

by yourlocalheartbreaker



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Gets Hurt A Lot, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence (not between hotch and haley), F/M, Gen, Haley Hotchner Deserved Better, Hotch Angst, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, None Of The BAU Make Appearances in Chapter One, Sad Aaron Hotchner, Teen Aaron Hotchner, That's Kind My Thing Now, The Backstory We Were Robbed Of, Theatre Kid Hotch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalheartbreaker/pseuds/yourlocalheartbreaker
Summary: "some of us grow up to catch them."aaron hotchner was a child full of darkness.aaron hotchner was a prosecutor full of contradictions.aaron hotchner was a federal agent, haunted by the memory of the unsub that had left their mark on him in the form of nine scars on his torso, a grave with his ex-wife's name on it and nightmares that woke him up more nights than not.(alternatively, aaron hotchner's childhood, the moments between his last case as a prosecutor and route 66, and the hotch episode we never got)*THE FINAL CHAPTER IS CURRENTLY ON HOLD*
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Jack Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner & Sean Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78





	1. childhood

**Author's Note:**

> so this is ridiculously long. and it's only the first of three chapters. buckle in. there's a lot of angst :)
> 
> trigger warnings: depictions of child abuse (both physical and emotional), depictions of domestic violence, police officers refusing to believe a victim of abuse, death threats from a parent, broken bones caused by abuse, abuse victim telling someone else to keep it a secret, death of a parent, cancer,

Aaron Hotchner was a child of darkness.

His mother would often fondly tell him how she was awoken from a nap in the late afternoon because of a pain in her stomach. A pain that his father had written off as her usual cramps, but she had decided wasn’t- because, she would whisper, a mother always knew- and got the bus to the hospital. The receptionists knew her well, Aaron would learn why later, and immediately checked her in. Ran their usual tests. Decided that although nothing seemed wrong, it would best to keep her in overnight, just to be on the safe side.

That was at six o’clock in the evening. 

She told him that at four thirty-two the next morning, Aaron Michael Hotchner was born. The hospital was cold, the heating not working properly and the open window letting the cold November wind in. It was dark, the sun having set long ago, and the moon obscured by dark clouds. Victoria Hotchner didn’t feel the chill though. She couldn’t. Not when she was holding the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen in her arms. Not when the son she had wanted for so long was finally nestled in her arms, looking at her without really seeing, yet still in awe of everything. She had never been happier, she told him.

She never told him how she had also feared for both their lives. How her husband had come to the hospital with a storm brewing behind his eyes because he had a big trial that same day and his son was already causing problems. How she had looked at him, really looked at him when he’d departed to get some rest and just known that he was going to look exactly like the man that scared her more than anything in the world, and that terrified her even more because what if she couldn’t save him?

Aaron loved hearing the story. When his father was at work- and he spent more time there than he did at home- he would often go up to his mother and tug on her dress. She’d smile, pick him up and deposit him on the counter before telling him the story again. He knew all the words and every single facial expression by the time he started school.

Michael Hotchner told his son a different story the day he turned eleven and bought home his first official report. The ones from elementary school hadn’t meant anything, so as long as he wasn’t causing any trouble, there weren’t any problems.

But this was different.

Aaron didn’t realise that till his mother asked him at dinner to collect his report card and show his father. He was a little nervous as he’d never felt like his father truly loved him. Not like the other dads at school that came and picked them up, or who watched them play football and cheered whenever they scored.

He didn’t sit when he returned with the card. It just didn’t feel right. His mother was biting her nails. He frowned; she wasn’t supposed to do that because it wasn’t good. He opened his mouth to remind her to stop but she shook her head. A minute gesture but he immediately clamped it shut. Turned his attention back to his father.

His father that was looking at his mother instead of his report card.

“Rebecca, go up to bed,” he commanded.

His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Michael don’t hurt him. He’s just a child and it’s his first report card, he doesn’t understand how important these things are, but he’ll have improved so much by the time the second one comes out just give him a chance- “

“I have been giving this pathetic thing that you dote on so much another chance ever since he started school and he is still not the man I wanted him to be. So, go to bed before it’s not just him I’m angry at,” Michael cut in, voice low and dark.

Aaron had heard his parents argue a few times. Normally his mother just gave in and agreed to whatever it was his father wanted.

This time was different.

This time, his mother looked at his father, anger and defiance in her eyes, and spat one word at him. “No.”

His father struck his mother, who didn’t even flinch. Aaron yelled for her like he was the one that had been hit. Almost immediately, Michael rounded on him, towering over the little boy like a skyscraper. Aaron was shaking.

“Rebecca, go to bed. Go to bed or else you’ll be going to the hospital because you burnt your hand on a saucepan.”

Aaron looked at his mother, terrified as to what was about to happen but not wanting her to get hurt either. He begged with his eyes for her to obey her husband and protect herself, because this was what a man was supposed to do, look after their family.

“No,” she repeated. “You’re not going to lay a hand on him. If you want to hurt someone because of his report card, then you can hurt me.”

Michael Hotchner snarled and pushed her against the wall hard enough for her to fall to the ground. Aaron tried to run to her, but his father was stronger. He kicked and screamed but all that did was tighten the grip his father had on him. He stopped struggling as they went down the stairs to the basement.

It was dark.

It was so dark Aaron couldn’t see his hands in front of his face.

It was dark, and his father was close enough for him to smell alcohol on his breath.

It was dark and he could hardly breathe because he was so scared of what was about to happen.

He heard rather than saw his father remove his belt and fold it over once.

He felt pain course through his entire body as it made contact with his back. He fell to the ground, begging for mercy as tears started streaming down his face. It hurt. It hurt and   
he was in pain and he couldn’t breathe, let alone think, because every part of his brain was focused on trying to remember how to make a heartbeat when all it wanted was to give up.

“I should’ve have started doing this the day you were old enough to stand,” his father snarled, bringing the belt down again.

Aaron howled. “Please, I’ll do anything, just stop, please.”

“Shut your mouth. I should’ve started but I didn’t because your mother kept giving herself up to me instead and I thought that was because she had you under control and she was   
just waiting for you to prove yourself. Now I realise she was trying to prevent me from realising you’re even worse than her.”

He’d bring the belt down after each and every sentence. Aaron couldn’t find his voice. His words had devolved into whimpers.

“You were born in the middle of the night and that ruined my life. My client went to prison because you decided to make an appearance which meant that I couldn’t prepare for my trial. Yes, that was all your fault and I bet you didn’t know that because your mother only ever told you how she knew, right? Well that’s a lie. Your birth was not beautiful, it was an inconvenience to us all. You pathetic nighttime baby.”

Aaron didn’t move when his father left. He curled up into a ball, sobbing with one hand pressed to his mouth because if he made any noise, he knew it’d be even worse for him. It was dark in the basement, and for the first time, he was afraid.

His father didn’t him the next day. Or the day after that. His mother cleaned the blood up like it was just another fall off his bike and he can’t see any bruises on her. Part of him believed it never happened. 

Then his father lost another trial and Aaron was again subjected to a night in the basement. The next day his mother covered the bruise on his face with make-up and he realised why he never knew. She learnt to hide it and he would need to learn too.

It was dark when his mother told him she was pregnant. He was still eleven years old and it had been four months and eleven days since his father had him for the first time. It had been four months and twelve days since his mother had told him the story of his birth.

“Are they going to be okay?” he whispered, unable to talk any louder.

His mother paused. “We’re going to make sure they are,” she said.

He nodded. He’d protect that child with his life. He didn’t know whether that would be called an exaggeration or not.

Sean Hotchner was born on the sunniest day of the year as the sun shone down, illuminating the hospital room and making his mother’s hair glow like a halo.

Aaron Hotchner was twelve now. And he already knew Sean was going to have a completely different life to him. Because his mother did not seem afraid as she passed her second son over to her husband. His father did not seem angry that Sean’s birth had called him away from work. He was smiling as he held him. And it was a genuine smile. Nothing like the horrible ones he got before he was beaten.

Aaron swallowed nervously. Rebecca Hotchner smiled and motioned for him to come closer, to stop hovering at the foot of the bed like he didn’t belong.

“You’ll protect him, right?” she asked, her smile never faltering.

Michael was still rocking him gently.

Aaron nodded. “I promise.”

He went over, wanting to see his little brother. His father was saying something. He strained to hear.

“I’m going to be there for you whenever you need me Sean. I promise. And I’m going to make sure you never end up being like your pathetic older brother, so you don’t have to worry about a single thing,” he was whispering.

Aaron felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. Sean wouldn’t remember this conversation, but was this how life was going to be? Sean hating him just because his father told him that his older brother was a failure?

“Can I hold him?” he asked, making himself appear as confident and strong as possible. Maybe that would help convince his father that Sean had no reason to hate him.

“Just don’t drop him or there will be consequences,” his father said harshly.

Aaron nodded and took him, gently holding his head up. For a moment he was terrified he was going to start shrieking, but then he relaxed, raising one hand slightly. Aaron walked over to the bed and sat beside his mother. She let the new baby wrap his entire hand around her pinkie.

“He’s so small,” Aaron said, awed by his brother.

“You were like that once as well,” she said, fondly smiling.

Aaron’s blood ran cold. All of a sudden, he was back in that basement being beaten for being born and costing his father a trial. “I don’t think I want to hold him anymore.”

His mother’s smile faded, but she nodded and took him, nonetheless.

Aaron and Sean grew over the following years. But where Sean was sunlight and angels, beauty and softness, Aaron was darkness and demons, the ugly truth trying so hard to be concealed. He was hard eyes and unruly hair.

He was not his father’s son- he was told that often enough- but he was his father’s reflection.

Michael never laid a hand on Sean. Aaron knew this. Aaron knew that it was no longer his mother that was forced to take the beating because she had started to smile again. When he snuck into her room to get the make-up needed to conceal a bruise on his throat where his father had held too tightly for a few too many seconds, he found that it had not been touched.

It was a fact that filled him with relief and anger. His mother had stopped trying to fight for him. She had stopped because her and Sean were safe and that was all that mattered to her. So long as it wasn’t her or her darling being hurt, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that his ribs ached every time he moved, or that he’d been forced to sleep on his stomach because his back was a mess of bruises and scars that ached with every move. 

He put the make-up back where he’d found it and went downstairs, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the bruises there.

His mother didn’t make any comments, too busy watching as Sean made a mess of his breakfast. Michael started laughing, making a comment about he was such a messy little boy, but he still scooped the fallen food up and fed Sean a new spoonful.

Aaron clenched his hands into fists and took his own bowl of oatmeal. He tried not to think about how his father had forced him to eat the food he’d dropped off the floor like a dog. 

Michael left moments after Aaron sat down.

“Please cover that up,” Rebecca whispered, taking the seat opposite him.

He met her eyes, not finding any pride when she flinched away. “Why? Are you ashamed of the marks he’s put on me because you don’t have to suffer anymore?”

There was a reason he was captain of the debate team despite being the youngest member at only fifteen.

Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. “Aaron, my baby, I’m sorry. I never wanted you to think I wasn’t protecting you. I hadn’t realised just how bad he had gotten. If I had, I never   
would’ve gone out with my friends last week. I would’ve done what he asked and stayed home. But I saw him with Sean and stupidly, stupidly believed he could be redeemed.”

His mother hadn’t called him baby in five years. “What? But the make-up, it was still full.”

She shook her head. “Our complexions are slightly different. I just put the one you need out.”

His hands started shaking. This whole time he’d believed that she was letting him take the pain, this whole time he’d believed she didn’t care about him enough she’d been saving him from the full force of his father’s wrath.

“Aaron, I’m so sorry. And the moment I find a way out- “

“No, I’m sorry. I never should’ve doubted that you loved me. I should’ve realised that he would never stop hurting you but I just- “he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t explain how much he regretted every thought he’d had since Sean had come home from the hospital three years ago. There was nothing he could say to let her know just how much her sacrifice meant to him.

“My baby, I never once thought you didn’t love me. And I never wanted you to know how he continued to hurt me. But promise me this: if you ever get the chance to get out, take your brother and run. It’s too late for me to start a new life, but you, my sweet baby, you’re young. Smart. You could do it. There’s money hidden in the loft, you could use it,” she said, eyes taking on a new determination.

Aaron shook his head. He couldn’t leave her. Not now he knew just how far she was willing to go to protect him. “Mama I don’t want to,” he pleaded, feeling more like a child than he’d ever done before. He hadn’t called her mama in so long. She hadn’t called him her baby in an even longer amount of time.

“You have to. When the moment comes, you have to. Now get to school before you’re late.”

He tried. He really did. But the bus was late and then there was traffic and an elderly woman needed help crossing the street. And he ended up being late. The receptionist smiled sadly as she passed him his detention slip, mouthing sorry. He blushed, keeping his eyes on the floor. Was she mocking him? Was she going to start laughing because Michael Hotchner’s son was a pathetic failure that couldn’t even get to school on time? 

When he walked into his English lesson, cheeks still flaming, the teacher tutted disapprovingly.

“Mr Hotchner, this sort of behaviour is unacceptable. What would your father say if he could see you now, turning up to school with hair like a bird’s nest and shirt scruffy?” she said, tone harsher than he’d ever heard it. Normally Miss Birch was the one person that let him just be normal, instead of the son of the best defence lawyer in the whole of their small town.

He looked up, trying to find any hint of a smile, but there was none. Her gaze was harsh as well. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he mumbled an apology and headed over to his seat. Somebody stuck their foot out. He only realised when his face hit the ground. The other kids started laughing. He gritted his teeth, clenched his hands into fists and tried to breathe. He wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Instead he stood up, brushed the dirt off his faded jeans and took his seat. Miss Birch looked concerned, but her eyes seemed unfocused. He turned around and almost started crying tears of relief. Miss Birch hadn’t decided he was not worth her time anymore. The lesson was being observed. 

“Aaron a word before you go please,” she called out as the lesson was ending. 

Aaron nodded, ignoring the giggles and remarks of his classmates. When they had all left, some of them making rude gestures before running to their next lesson, he went up to the front.

“Is everything okay? At school, at home, just generally?” she asked.

Aaron didn’t know how to respond. On the one hand, he knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything against his father, that it was the dirty little secret him and his mother were forced to carry around each day because there was nobody who’d ever believe them, but on the other, Miss Birch looked like she cared. Like she could be trusted.

“Aaron? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? Like if your brother was being difficult, or if you were worried about your dad spending so much time at work? Because all children of that age throw tantrums and throw things and your fathers’ job is time-consuming and difficult, there’s nothing to worry about there.”

The words had been on the tip of his tongue. If she hadn’t defined what counted as something being wrong, he would’ve told her how his father would take him down to the basement, beat him within an inch of his life and then hold Sean like he was a priceless antique.

But of course, she wouldn’t think that was true. Who would? Michael Hotchner was the perfect family man: a successful criminal defence lawyer with a beautiful wife that smiled and cooked and cleaned. One son that looked exactly like her, and one that would follow in his exact footsteps.

“Everything’s fine,” he choked out before bolting from the classroom. He ran into at least three people trying to get to the bathroom. When he finally made it, he hid in one of the stalls, head buried in trembling hands as he tried to quiet his sobs. As the pain in his chest started to lessen, and as his breathing started to feel natural instead of forced, his hands stopped shaking and he unlocked the door.

Stared at his reflection. How could nobody in their close-knit community realise he was just a broken teen that desperately needed somebody to help him scream for help? His eyes were too shielded for any teenager, the corners of his mouth permanently turned downwards. The circles under his eyes were starting to look more like bruises. His hair refused to cooperate with him, making him look even more run-down.

He thought of Sean and his innocent smile, light eyes and halo of hair. The exact replica of their mother. Whereas he was the mirror image of his father, right down to the glare they could pull out at any moment. 

The bell signaling the end of break made him jump, but he ran to his next lesson before he could get into any more trouble.

That night at dinner, his father didn’t pay attention to him. He was too busy telling them all about the trials he’d had that day. And how he’d managed to tear the prosecution to pieces which meant his client had walked free. It made Aaron sick, and he was pushing the food round his plate, unable to find the energy to eat it. 

“Why aren’t you eating? I worked hard to put this before you, the least you could do is be grateful for it,” he snapped.

Aaron jerked in his chair.

“Michael he’s a teenager. They have strange appetites,” his mother chastised gently.

Aaron wished he sounded more like his mother. She was gentle and calm and warm. But despite his efforts, he still sounded like his father: harsh and angry and cold.

“Well he shouldn’t,” Michael snapped.

Sean babbled away in his chair as Aaron stuffed dinner into his mouth, fighting the urge to gag as it caused the knots in his stomach to tighten and entangle even further.

Rebecca sighed. Aaron felt sick, but he’d finished eating. His father hadn’t mentioned the detention. Maybe he was safe. Maybe this time he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be punished. Maybe he could go to sleep without turning onto his stomach, wincing every time the smallest amount of pressure was placed on his shoulder.

“I heard you got a detention,” Michael hissed when Rebecca excused herself to put Sean to sleep.

Aaron’s throat closed up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’re sorry? What is that supposed to do? How are people going to respect me if my own son cannot follow basic rules? You got a detention because you were late. That’s stupid. You need to learn to be better. How have you not learned to be better yet?”

Michael was standing in front of him now. Aaron still hadn’t hit his growth spurt. He felt like the mouse in Sean’s favourite bedtime story. He swallowed, bottom lip trembling as he tried to find the words, the apology, the excuse.

His father kicked him in the stomach. He fell to the ground with a groan. He tried to cover the area with his hands but those were kicked away. As his father carried on, not once   
taking a moment to breathe, Aaron tried to resist the urge to be sick. That would only make things worse. He couldn’t take anymore. He tried begging for mercy, but that only resulted in a harder kick.

Only when he couldn’t form words did the beating finally stop. Michael spat on his face, before grabbing his keys off the table and storming out the front door, letting it slam behind him. Aaron remained curled on his stomach, only forcing himself off the ground when he heard the door to the nursery close. His mother would come down soon. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

He locked himself in the bathroom before she could come down and observed the damage. The purple and brown of the bruises that were slowly forming looked even uglier against the milky white of his skin, only made worse by the constant state of fear he found himself in.

It was only then he let himself vomit. He cleaned it up himself. His mother was waiting behind the door, face filled with anguish. He brushed past her, but she tried to grab his wrist. When he tugged it free, barely even having to try, they both froze. Was he turning into his father?

He bolted up the stairs, locked the door to his bedroom and hoped it was one of the days where his father stayed out till the morning. He didn’t pray, because he hadn’t prayed in a long time. But he hoped, and he dared to dream a little as outside the blue of Miss Birch’s eyes turned to the black of his father’s anger turned to the pink of his mother’s love turned to the red of the dried blood in the basement turned to the lightness of Sean’s eyes.

He was early that day.

His father still punched him when he got home from work because this trial had gone badly.

And Aaron had cried. Not from the pain. From the lack of it.

The next day, when one of the bigger kids tried to take his lunch, he held a little tighter. And when they punched his side, he punched back. It hurt him more than it hurt them, but he was so happy he could’ve cried. Because he felt something. He felt the most incredibly rush of adrenaline. He felt a surge of anger and he felt like he could take control of his life again.

He’d never been so scared yet fascinated by a feeling. It wasn’t fear, or guilt. Fear was when his hands trembled and his throat tightened, making it impossible to breathe. Guilt was when his mother would refuse to meet his eyes over the dinner table, or when he would feel a surge of jealousy as Sean ran into his father’s arms. It wasn’t quite happiness either. Happiness was when his mother would smile at him. 

It was relief. His father may have taken his childhood, his innocence and all that was good from him, but he still had the ability to feel. Yes, it was pain and it hurt, but it was something. And as he was always being told, something was always better than nothing.

He wasn’t suspended. He was given another detention. He didn’t care, and he had to fight to keep the smile from his face. His father was on a business trip in New York- what a defence lawyer could be doing there when there was no sort of case was beyond him, but that didn’t matter.

What mattered was he could sleep easily. He didn’t have to worry about what would happen when he got home.

He forgot how his mother hated the moments where he was like his father. In his short moment of relief, he’d forgotten how hard his mother had fought to protect him and prevent him from becoming anything like his father.

She was sat in her husband’s armchair when he returned home, not really paying attention to Sean as she stared out the window, eyes fixated on a tree in another family’s driveway.

Aaron swallowed, the earlier relief fading as his entire body went rigid as though somebody had poured a bucket of ice water over him. “Mama I’m home,” he called out.

“Aaron!” Sean called out, tottering over to him, wrapping chubby (unblemished, perfect, unmarked) arms around his legs.

“Hey buddy,” he said, ruffling his hair. He kept his gaze trained on his mother.

“Why did you punch that other student?” she asked, voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

He looked away, unable to form an answer. Why had he? He couldn’t say it was because he needed to feel something. Michael had been hurting Rebecca for a lot longer than he’d been hurting for and his mother had never once laid a hand on him just to feel something. And a small part of him worried that if he did tell her, she’d laugh. Treat him the same way his father did.

Sean looked up at him, eyes wide and so blue Aaron had to turn away. He didn’t want to look at his brother and only see his mother. “Are you sad?”

“No buddy, I’m okay. Go and play, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” he said, forcing a smile. Sean didn’t seem convinced, but he left, running up the stairs and into his own room. Where he would never have to be afraid of his father storming into because he’d messed up again.

“You should consider yourself lucky your father is in New York,” Rebecca commented.

Aaron dropped his head in shame. He was a little taller than his mother, had been for a while, but he never felt smaller than when she was disappointed in him. No, not disappointed: ashamed. Which was almost worse.

“I know. And it won’t happen again,” he said.

“Thank you baby,” she said, pulling him into her arms. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender. Here was where he belonged. He wished his father would never come back. That he could spend the rest of his life by his mother’s side, never having to look over his shoulder for hands ready to grab the back of his collar.

He should have known that wishes made by people like him never came true.

He punched somebody else the next day. And the day after that. He punched somebody different, somebody that tried to hurt him or humiliate him each day. In a single week, he went from the quiet, well-respected young son of Mr Hotchner to the too explosive, dangerous man that would hurt anyone who got in his way.

Even Miss Birch had stopped looking out for him. She had stopped asking how his essay was going and recommending him books. She’d started keeping a firmer eye on him, telling him off when other students acted out as though she was warning that everyone would blame him the moment something went wrong.

He didn’t care. Hurting the bullies- because that was what they were, bullies dressed up as friends in varsity sport jackets- was the only thing that made him feel like he was alive.

Then his father came home, and he wished he was dead. 

There was no warning. There was no movement from the living room to the basement. There was no lecture about how his behaviour was unbecoming and wrong for someone like him. There was nothing. Not even a car in the driveway to let him know his father was home. He closed the door behind him, having just got home from school and immediately knew. The house didn’t feel like the home he’d made it into over the past few days.

“Your mother took Sean to get some groceries,” Michael announced from the living room as Aaron placed his shoes back on the rack and hung his coat up.

“I didn’t realise you were getting home today,” he whispered, placing his bag on the floor beside the sofa, daring to venture further into the living room. His father looked up at him and Aaron immediately turned his gaze to the carpet. His father wouldn’t let any blood get on there. He’d made that mistake once before.

“Oh? What would you have changed if you had?” Michael asked sarcastically.

“I’m- I-” he stuttered.

His father’s hand striking his face sent him sprawling to the floor with a muffled groan. Although he was starting to tower over his mother, he was still shorter than his father. Shorter, thinner, smaller. Weaker.

“You what? Wouldn’t have completely humiliated your good family?” Michael shouted, pressing his foot down on Aaron’s hand as he tried to pull himself upright.

Aaron tried to nod, but the pain in his hand was excruciating. His father knelt down beside him, grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged. Hard. The movement forced Aaron’s head to tilt upwards as tears pooled in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not my son,” Michael spat, tightening his grip as Aaron tried to close his eyes. “You never will be, and when I’m done with you, you’ll regret ever fighting back against anyone.”

He wasn’t sure what happened next. He knew he was punched, in the stomach and the face. He knew he was kicked in the stomach. He knew his father pulled a cane, meant to only be decorative from the cabinet and whacked the back of his legs with it. The world went black after the tenth strike with the belt.

When he woke up, it was in his own bed, in the same clothes he’d arrived home in. He tried to sit up, but the world immediately tilted as he did, and he was forced to lie back down for a few more moments. Eventually his room stopped spinning and he was able to walk over to the light and flick it on. He looked in the mirror. It wasn’t him that stared back. It couldn’t be. Both his eyes were black, his face an assortment of bruises, his mouth swollen. Hesitantly, he tugged his shirt off, and twisted round. 

He couldn’t vomit. It was too disgusting. A mess of marks and scars, some of them still bleeding slightly. Not wanting to look for a moment longer, he pulled a clean shirt out of his wardrobe and put it on. He couldn’t handle the thought of looking at his legs.

He was surrounded by darkness. 

It was nine in the evening. He’d been out for five hours. There was a note on the table. It was his mother’s writing. 

Aaron,  
It was me that carried you up. Your father took Sean the moment we got home, so he hasn’t seen you. He said you were exhausted from debate club and that is the story you’re going to tell as well. There’s no food in the fridge, and I am sorry about that, but I couldn’t try and smuggle that past him.  
Please don’t do anything stupid.  
Mama

In a fit of anger, he ripped the piece of paper into shreds before flinging them everywhere. He ran his hands through his hair, angrily pacing the room. It hurt to move any part of his body, but he couldn’t just lay there, pretending to be asleep to keep his father off his back and keep his mother from worrying.

His window faced the driveway. The car wasn’t there. His father was out. His mother and Sean would be sleeping. 

And he made his decision.

He’d never snuck out before. He’d thought about it, but he’d never been able to. He’d kept his trainers in his wardrobe though, just in case he ever needed to. And he’d never been gladder that he felt the need to be prepared for every single situation.

He knew exactly where he was going. He saw it every time he went to church. He’d memorised how to get there from the church, from his school, from his house. He knew roughly how to get there from Sean’s preschool and the park.

He walked in, suddenly keenly aware of what he was about to do.

“Aaron Hotchner? Has something happened to your father? Or your brother?” the receptionist asked.

Aaron swallowed. It was now or never. He took a deep breath. “My father has been abusing my mother since the day she said I do, and he’s been hitting me since I was eleven,” he blurted out.

She frowned. The Hotchner’s were a picture-perfect family, a dutiful and happy housewife, a strong man that was able to provide for his family’s every need, a house with a white picket fence and a beautiful garden. Sean was a perfect angel, always telling people about the adventures he’d had with his dad. Aaron was the problem. He was always getting into fights and being difficult. But if she didn’t deal with his claim, the consequences would be even more paperwork.

“You’d better come with me,” she sighed.

Aaron nodded, trying to not get too excited. But he believed in happy endings, however childish they may seem. And maybe she thought he was telling the truth. And if she thought that, then the police would listen as well. Then his father would go to prison, and Aaron wouldn’t have to leave his mother; they could be happy.

“Aaron?” Officer Cage, a middle-aged man that had served as a witness in many cases his father had been involved in, called out.

The receptionist turned. “He’s here because he claims that his father is abusing him and his mother.”

Officer Cage raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He knew children sometimes told tales, but Aaron was not a child, and this wasn’t a tall tale, it was slander. Rebecca Hotchner was one of the happiest women he knew; she was always smiling, always laughing and without a single bruise on her body. But he had a duty to do.   
He sighed, sat down behind his desk and motioned for Aaron to take the other chair. Aaron, nervous and pale, sat down on his hands, trying to make the tremors less obvious.   
The receptionist vanished back into her office.

“You shouldn’t accuse your father of anything like that. It’s rude, disrespectful and frankly disgusting,” he said.

Whatever colour had been in Aaron’s face vanished. “I’m not lying,” he said, but he sounded desperate.

Officer Cage looked down at him. “This is a small-town Aaron. News travels fast. Your father is a noble and good man- he works as a defence lawyer and helps people being accused of things they aren’t even incapable of dreaming about. Your mother is a wonderful woman that loves her husband and is the perfect housewife. Your brother is a young and lively spirit who is constantly telling stories about the fun him and his daddy get up to. The only problem is you. You are the one that gets into fights and ruins his trials and upsets your mama. That’s not your father. So instead of making up lies to make yourself seem better, why don’t you take responsibility for your actions?”

“But I’m not making anything up!” he exclaimed, voice cracking as he started to cry. He fought to keep speaking. “He shoved my mama against a wall, and he whipped me with his belt and he slapped her and- and, there are so many things he did, and I can tell you all of them if you would just listen to me-“

“Aaron?” his mother called out. The receptionist was beside her.

“Mrs Hotchner,” Officer Cage greeted.

She raised a hand in acknowledgement. “Aaron what are you doing?” She had gotten dressed before coming down, the pearls- a gift from her father-in-law- she only wore when they were having a dinner party around her neck. The wedding band on her left hand seem to glow.

“I’m telling them the truth,” he said, pleading with her to do the same.

“The truth?” she repeated, head tilted to the side. He knew she was praying for her thoughts and assumptions to be wrong. But a mother’s intuition never lied.

“Mrs Hotchner, your son is claiming your husband has been abusing the two of you for a very long time. Is there any truth to these claims?” Officer Cage asked.

Aaron stared at her, eyes pleading, face covered in bruises as his hands trembled and legs threatened to collapse beneath him. He was the definition of desperate. He needed her to tell the truth. He needed her to back him up, for both their futures. He needed her to say the words that had only ever been whispered behind closed doors.

Rebecca sighed. And Aaron knew it was all over even before the sentence left her mouth.

“No, it isn’t. My husband has never laid a hand on either of us and I’m ashamed Aaron would even suggest such a thing. Officer Cage, I’m so sorry he wasted your time like this. We’re leaving now,” she said, grabbing her son’s wrist.

He flinched away from the touch. She only tightened her grip. “Do not make a scene. Not here, and definitely not now.”

He gave up and she dragged him from the police station. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the outside. It was then that he realised.  
“You’re not wearing your walking shoes. How did you get here if you’re not wearing your walking shoes?”

There was only one vehicle in the car park. Aaron tried to run, but his mother tightened her grip to the point that he was afraid of losing circulation.

The drive home was silent. When his father commanded his mother to go upstairs and make sure Sean stayed asleep, she didn’t argue. She just nodded and turned on her heel.

Aaron kept his eyes on the basement floor. He could hardly breathe but he knew he just needed to keep his eyes on the floor and not make a sound. It’d be over before he could count to a thousand and twenty-four, and then he’d be able to breathe. He wouldn’t sleep but he’d be alive, and his mother would’ve avoided death for another day.

His father strode over and pushed him, so his chest was against the wall. He’d done that before. It usually meant he was going to whipped. 

This time, his father grabbed his arm. Twisted it against his back. Continued to twist and push as Aaron cried out for mercy. As he forced himself to bite his lip to contain anymore cries. As tears started landing on the floor. He only stopped when there was a loud crack of a bone breaking and Aaron screamed.

He was shoved to the floor, landing on his injured side.

“I need a hospital,” he whispered, cradling his broken arm and potential dislocated shoulder.

His father snorted. “There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near a hospital after the stunt you pulled today.”

“I won’t say a word I promise, I swear on my life, but I need a hospital. It’s broken, I can tell that much.”

“No. You’re not going anywhere. And you may swear on your life that you won’t say anything, but your life doesn’t matter to me, or to you. So, I’ll do you one better. Sneak into a hospital today or pull another stunt like that one at the police station and I’ll kill your mother. I’ll kill her and I’ll make you watch.”

He was toeing the line. But the pain was unbearable. He could hardly think.

“Papa please,” he begged.

Michael turned around and struck him across the face. Aaron screamed as pressure was added to his arm. 

“How fucking dare you try and receive mercy by calling me that? You’re not my son. Only Sean has claim on that title. You pathetic baby.” 

His mother called him baby when she wanted him to know she loved him. She hadn’t said it since she’d dragged him out of the station. He tried to pretend hearing the word coming from his father’s mouth- spat like a dirty slur- didn’t impact him. His father scoffed before leaving. 

Aaron didn’t move from the floor the entire night. He only emerged when the light above the basement was switched on and he could see it from beneath the door. His entire body ached. 

Nothing hurt more than his arm.

He could hardly move it. As he tried to get dressed, he found it almost impossible to push his arm through the shirtsleeve. When he finally succeeded, he felt as though he’d been stabbed a thousand times.

His mother refused to look him in the eye at breakfast. Aaron wanted to be angry at her, but he couldn’t. The pain in his arm made it impossible to feel anything. He wanted to tell her that he needed to go to a hospital, but his father’s words echoed in his mind. Part of him wanted to believe it was just another empty threat, but it was too risky. 

Besides the pain was in his right arm. He was left-handed, and for the first time in his life, he was grateful for that. Maybe if he avoided placing any pressure on his arm then it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe if he didn’t think about the sound it had made the previous night then it would stop hurting. Maybe it wasn’t actually broken, and he had just been imagining everything. The thought almost made him laugh. Of course it was broken, it was just about what he was going to do.

“We need to talk,” his mother said when Sean left to pick up his own school bag.

Aaron wondered where the time had gone. Sean was four now. And he was still blissfully innocent.

“I’m going to be late,” he snapped, dumping his bowl and glass in the sink with an unnecessary amount of force. He was trying to not be angry at his mother, but it was hard, even   
if the pain made it difficult to focus on anything else. She was supposed to protect him. And maybe if she had said something, he would have been believed. But now he would never know.

“Baby,” she pleaded.

Aaron clenched his fists but softened his gaze when he turned to face her. “Mama, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he tried to ignore the pressure it placed on his arms. “Why?”

He pulled back. “I’d finally had enough. And I couldn’t just hide in my room, pretending that our family was perfect when- when he’s a bastard and I hate him.”

Rebecca shushed him. “Don’t say that. I think the same, but you can never say that again. And you can never go the police, do you hear me? You are never to do that again. You’re going to graduate from high school, get out of this town and do good things. And Sean is going to be fine.”

“But what about you?” he whispered.

“Like you said, you’ll be late,” she said pulling away from him.

He sighed, grabbed his bag- using his left arm and his left arm only- before he started walking. 

Whispers seemed to wrap their tendrils around his body as he walked to his locker and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He knew word about what he had done had travelled, and that everybody knew what had gone down. He knew that nobody believed him- and who would, he was just the rascal son that got into too many fights and carried a darkness that nobody wanted to see around. He knew that even the make-up could not hide the damage of the previous day and he knew that he would need a hospital if he wanted to keep his arm.

The first lesson of the day was Maths. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He only answered when his name was called on the register. But as they were handing in their assignments, it felt like his teacher wanted to say something more as they hovered by his desk. For a moment, it seemed like they were going to say something. Aaron looked up; eyes wide. 

They shook their head and moved on. He sighed.

Of course they weren’t going to say anything. Because the receptionist had been right. Everyone perceived Michael Hotchner was the perfect family man, with Rebecca his loyal and perfect wife, and Sean the spitting image of his mother: innocent and good. Aaron was the one surrounded by darkness. He was the one that got into fights and undermined what was said. He was the one that struggled to listen in church. His mother had been right to deny his claims. They wouldn’t have been believed.

As he stood to leave, he knew his teacher was watching him. And the look in their eyes told him everything. A part of them doubted the rumour that he’d gotten into another fight with someone that could beat him easily. A part of them was wondering whether he had been telling the truth. He hesitated before leaving.

They didn’t say a word, and he speed walked the whole way to English. The pain in his arm, the pain that had slightly reduced when his maths teacher looked like he was going to save him, was back full force.

“Aaron,” she said, and he tried to not wince. He hated the way his name sounded. He would forever associate it with the darkness of the basement. His father’s mocking tone. His mother’s desperate one. Sean’s innocence as he mispronounced it, not yet understanding how bad his brother actually was.

His arm was in agony. He lifted his head, and tried to focus on her face, despite the fuzziness in the corners of his vision.

“Did you want me to do something?” he asked, ever the perfect gentleman.

No amount of make-up could fully cover the bruises on his face. She let out a soft gasp, clearly not having heard the rumours flying round about the fight he had gotten into that had led to the damage.

“Oh Aaron,” she whispered, sounding so much like his mother it was almost painful.

Aaron clenched his fists. “Miss?” 

The black spots were growing bigger.

“Right, of course. Could you hand these out please?” she asked, clearly not following through with what she’d initially wanted to say as she fumbled with the books on the table.  
He had no idea where they were. The room was starting to go blurry and his sleeve felt wet, but he needed to be perfect. He held his arms out, hoping he was following the sound of her voice properly and that she was stood, not sitting, otherwise his arms would be in the completely wrong place.

They were in the right place, but thirty copies of a book were hard to carry. They immediately fell to the floor as an extreme pain shot through his arm, causing him to groan and try to grab it with his other hand. Blood was pooling on the sleeve. He could feel it. His father was going to kill him. No, not him. His mother.

He let out a soft cry as he let go of the books.

His teacher stepped forward. “Aaron?” she asked, wondering, not for the first time, if the Hotchner’s were as perfect as everybody pretended, they were.

He crumpled to the ground as the last book dropped beside his head.

She screamed.

There was a white light in the distance. He winced, so used to the darkness that he had forgotten what brightness looked like. He slowly made his way towards it, knowing a better life had to be at the end of it. Even if it was death, anything was better than the pain he couldn’t escape.

“Are you back with us now?” a woman asked, gently.

He frowned, tried to lift his head to look around. “I don’t know where I am,” he rasped, head falling back on the pillow as he failed to support his weight. The ceiling was white. 

Everything was white, from the walls to the sheet beneath him.

“That’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You passed out in school. Your arm is broken, and you have a mild concussion. Can you tell me the last thing you remember before waking up?”

His mind was stuck on the word hospital. He couldn’t be. How did he get there? Who took him? “Hospital?” he repeated, vaguely aware he must’ve sounded stupid.

“Yes dear, the hospital. You passed out. Your arm is broken. Now can you answer my questions?” her voice was gentle, not demanding, but his mind once again focused in on the word hospital. He frowned, trying to remember why it would be such a big deal, but his brain felt like one giant piece of cotton wool.  
“Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve got all the time in the world,” she said.

He mouthed the word hospital to himself. 

“Aaron?”

Hospital. Aaron. Broken. Concussion. The words bled together into nothing. Until they stopped and the jigsaw came together.

“I can’t be here,” he whispered.

“Sorry?”

He shoved the sheet off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He tried to stand but the nurse was quicker, pushing him back onto the bed without touching the arm   
wrapped in a cast, preventing it from causing any more damage.

“I can’t be here. I have to go. I need to get home before my dad. Please, I have to. You have to let me go now or else he’ll get home and realise that I’m not there and then my mama is going to get hurt so I need to go, please just let me up. And don’t tell him I was here. You can’t tell him I was here,” he said, not even realising one arm was in a cast.  
“You can’t leave. You passed out from the pain of breaking your arm and not getting medical help immediately. Passing out gave you a concussion. So, unless you give me the answers to my questions without being prompted, you’re going to be here.”

His eyes widened, vaguely resembling dark holes as the light reflected onto them, making it seem like the stars shone in his pupils. His whole body was trembling, but he was doing his best to hide it. He stared at the nurse, desperately trying to form a sentence.

“He’s going to kill her. He’s going to do it. He said it. He told me. Yesterday, he said that if I went, if I left and went to a hospital and got it looked at then he’d kill my mama. He said it. I’m not lying. He’s going to kill her and make me watch so I need to get out because Sean needs her and she’s too good to die and she thinks I’m angry with her but I’m not, I’m angry with him for being a sick bastard and hurting her, only nobody believes me because he seems perfect-” he said, voice rising in volume as he became more and more distressed.

“Aaron calm down. You’re safe. So is your mother. Your parents and brother are waiting outside for you. They’re all very concerned. I’m going to go and tell them you’re awake okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to happen anyone, especially not because of your father,” she said, keeping her voice even.   
All the fight left him as tiredness overwhelmed him, the brief adrenaline rush wearing off as he realised there was no escape. There was no way of saving his mother.

The nurse left, stuffing her hands into her pockets so nobody commented on the shakiness. She’d heard about what the elder Hotchner son had done- everyone had- but she hadn’t believed it. People spread rumours about that poor boy all the time. She didn’t think he was a good child, not with all the fights he got into, but that seemed real. Like he was genuinely scared. Not just trying to pass the blame.

“Is he okay?” Mrs Hotchner asked as soon as the nurse was within sight.

“We had to do a minor surgery and his arm has been put in a cast and he has a concussion, but yes, he’s fine. We’ll have to keep him in overnight for observations and his arm is   
badly broken so he may have to be in the cast for longer than most people, but he should be right as rain within the next six months,” she explained as they walked to the room.

“He wasn’t giving you any trouble, was he?” Mr Hotchner asked. His tone was teasing, an easy smile on his face, but she shivered. If what Aaron had said was true, then her next words would determine his fate.

“Of course not. He’s been the perfect angel. Haven’t you Aaron?” she said, as they entered the room.

Aaron visibly flinched. She noticed his father frown and immediately stepped in.

“The drugs we put him on to carry out the surgery made him a little jumpy. Look Aaron, it’s your mama and papa. Do you want to sit up for me? They can make you feel more comfortable and we can work out what happened together.”

He nodded, nothing more than a puppet.

Both his parents entered, his mother sitting on the bed whilst his father leant against the wall, watching the scene unfurl.

“Hi baby,” his mother greeted, smiling softly as she ran a hand through his hair, pushing the messy bangs off his forehead.

“You’re okay,” he whispered.

“Of course I am. All I did was bump into the table, remember?” she said.

He frowned, then made a soft sound of realisation. “Oh. Yes, I remember.”

She didn’t want to interrupt them. She wanted to run from the room and go to Detective Cage and convince him that Aaron Hotchner had been telling the truth, that his father was indeed an evil man that needed to go away. But then Michael looked at her, eyes cold and paralysing. She swallowed. Nobody would believe her. And then Aaron would suffer even more.

“Do you remember how you ended up here?” she asked, taking the chair beside the bed when it became clear that his father wasn’t going to sit down.

“I remember Miss Birch asked me to hand out some books, but when I took them, they were heavy and it really hurt my arm,” he said.

She nodded. “That’s good. Can you tell me how you ended up breaking your arm?”

The silence that fell across the room made her wonder if something terrible was about to happen. Michael finally looked at his son, who’s eyes widened in fear as he turned to his mother, who had a death grip on the boy’s hand.

“I got into a fight,” he said, voice flat. “I didn’t tell my parents my arm hurt because I didn’t want to disappoint them or bring any more shame on the family than I already had. And   
it only hurt a little bit, so I didn’t even realise it was broken until today.”

The words sounded rehearsed and she wanted to ask him again if that was genuinely what had happened, but she couldn’t make the words come. Instead she nodded, then said the doctor would probably want to ask some questions as well.

Aaron simply nodded, not meeting the looks of either of his parents.

His father didn’t hit him till the cast came off.

But Aaron didn’t feel any pain. Or fear. He still got into fights as well, as the story of how he’d broken his arm flew round the school like wildfire and people started to look at him with fear instead of disgust wasn’t enough to deter some of them. Miss Birch stopped flying to his defence when people did dare to attack him, but he didn’t care.  
He was seventeen years old and he was a child of darkness. 

Then Haley Brooks entered his life in an explosion of brightness and sunshine.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. He was well-aware of her existence- he lived in a small town; how could he not be- but that didn’t mean he ever spoke to her. In fact, Aaron didn’t even make eye contact with her. But everything about Haley was different. For starters, she’d not grown up in his small town. Her voice was softer, less heavily accented. She smiled at everyone and treated them with kindness, not knowing who the good families were. And if she did, she didn’t care. Her eyes were bright with life and love.

She reminded him of the sun. He avoided her because of that. He knew that she heard the rumours about him and the stuff he’d been up to and he was well-aware that, despite her cheerleader status, she wanted to be his friend. He wanted to be her friend as well. But he couldn’t. She was kind and gentle. He had his father’s glare and harsh tone. All he was capable of was destroying beautiful things like Haley’s lightness.

But he couldn’t stop himself from watching her. They went to the same church service. She always wore something pastel. Whether it was pink or purple or blue, it didn’t matter. It was always a modest, respectful dress that covered her shoulders and reached her knees. That only made him feel even more disgusted for looking over.

Haley always paid attention. She never saw him watching. Her sister did though. Jessica Brooks would glare, and Aaron would turn away, cheeks going red as he pretended to be intently listening to what the priest was saying. He never was. He hadn’t since he was old enough to understand that his dad wasn’t supposed to hit him, and that the Bible didn’t say it was okay.

He knew that the Brooks family were protective of their daughter. He knew they looked at him in church and sighed to themselves, praying for the Hotchner parents.  
So no, it hadn’t been his intention to ever meet Haley Brooks. But then on the last day before summer, he’d been trying to find his mock trial team- they were the few people in school that he actually got on with as it didn’t matter who his dad was, they just liked him because he was a good prosecutor- and he’d accidentally stumbled into the theatre club.

It was like something out of a film. He’d never actually been in the drama department. But it was alive. There were colourful props strewn everywhere, costumes and fabric covering all four walls of the classroom they were turning into a set. Students laughing and smiling, just casually flicking through their scripts as they did warm-ups, ready for whatever it was they were doing.

His eyes met Haley’s and he immediately knew he needed to get out of there. He reached behind him, trying to find the door handle but unable to grasp anything but air.

When she held up her hand, stopping her friend from finishing her sentence, the room fell silent as everyone realised exactly who had walked in.

Aaron felt his cheeks warm as Haley Brooks walked over to him, holding a book full of music.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I’m really sorry. It’s just- I was looking for the erm, the mock trial team and obviously this is not the mock trial time so I’ll just-” he trailed off, mesmerised by the brightness of her eyes and it was only then that he realised that he couldn’t open the door because his hand was too far away to grab it.

“You’re not interrupting anything. Why don’t we talk outside?” Haley said, with a soft laugh as she reached around him to open the door.

Feeling rather stupid, and incapable of saying no to her, he nodded, following her into the corridor.

“I’m Haley,” she said, once they were a good distance away from the rest of the theatre club.

“I know. I mean, I’m not stalking you, it’s just that I’ve seen you around and you’re pretty popular so- I’m Aaron,” he said, hating the sound of his voice. When had it gotten so high-pitched?

“I know you aren’t stalking me. I see you at church. You make your brother laugh. He’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“So, theatre huh?” Haley said after a short silence.

Aaron’s eyes widened. “Oh. No, I genuinely was looking for my mock trial team, I’ve never been good at acting or singing or dancing.”

“Well, we always need more boys, regardless of their abilities. We’re doing the Pirates of Penzance next year. You should consider it. I’m sure I’d be able to whip you into shape if you wanted to give it a go.”

She pressed the book into his hands, and he tried to not react as their hands brushed. Her hands were delicate, soft, and he found himself trying to memorise the warmth that had spread up his arm when she touched him.

“Maybe. Well, I should really find the mock trial team and your friend seemed really excited about whatever it was she was saying,” he said, already backing away from her.

“Bye Aaron!” she called out.

He didn’t mind the way his name sounded when it came from her. The light, floaty feeling speaking to her had given him lasted till he got home.

There was no way his father would let him participate in theatre. Not as he entered his senior year, when every last bit of energy was supposed to be going on making sure he got into a good college so he could go to law school.

It didn’t stop Hotch from stuffing the script down the side of his mattress, learning the words to some of the more suitable for his range songs under the covers at night, the soft light emitted by the torch he’d smuggled out of the basement his only guidance.

It didn’t stop him from auditioning either. Nobody seemed to be commenting on his sudden change of extracurriculars, and his mother hadn’t mentioned any concerns either. There was no way his father would know until it was too late for him to stop. And the smile on Haley’s face when he appeared on stage, awkwardly introducing himself and hesitantly singing through his audition piece was worth the embarrassment of going on stage.

His father hadn’t been at home for most of the summer. He was there even less now school was back in session. Aaron had been reaching for the make-up less. But he couldn’t kid himself into thinking his father was changing. It was just that most nights when his father got home, he was already in bed. And the times that he wasn’t, his father seemed to forget he existed. 

Aaron knew his father was having an affair. Everyone did. It was why he didn’t care when his father would come stumbling through the door, drunk out of his mind, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. That only happened when Sean was at a friend for the evening. On the days where they were all sat around the dinner table, the seat at the head of the table empty, he would lock himself in his office, pale and underweight.

He got complacent and left the songbook on his bed. Rehearsals had begun, but as Pirate No.4, he spent most of the time watching Haley dance round the stage as she sung like an angel and laughed with her friends. Since joining, he hadn’t gotten into a fight- he didn’t need that pain to feel anymore- but he still wasn’t trusted by many people. They all thought he was plotting something. Haley made a point of sitting with him every time they took five though.

The rehearsal went well. Haley spoke to him multiple times, even going as far as hugging him when he finally, finally got one of the few dances he had to do right. He’d grinned at her, almost melting into a puddle when she smiled back unabashedly, saying he was already doing so much better than before. He walked home with a smile on his face, feeling like he was floating on a cloud. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother how Haley was. Sean had a playdate and his dad had mentioned some sort of appointment- which he couldn’t even bring himself to care about- which meant he could do whatever he wanted for a few hours.

But when he unlocked the door and wandered into the sitting room, the cloud he’d been floating on vanished underneath him and he felt his throat closing up as he struggled to find the oxygen he needed to live.

His father was holding the songbook.

“Go down to the basement. Take your shirt off and wait for me. You have three minutes,” he rasped.

Aaron ran, hands trembling as he tried to undo the buttons of his shirt. His father came down two minutes later, and he hadn’t managed to undo the last one. Without any warning, his father bought the belt down on his back. Aaron screamed. It had been so long because his father had been so weak from whatever it was that was happening.

“What were you thinking? That you could hide this from me forever? You’re supposed to be becoming a lawyer, Aaron. You don’t have time to be prancing around on a stage like a fucking idiot. What is everyone going to say when they find out Michael Hotchner’s son is spending his time with scum like that? You will shame this family more than you already have. Tomorrow, you are going to go down to the theatre club, and you are going to tell them that you can’t be in the show. I don’t care what your reasoning is. Just do it. Do you understand?”

Aaron whimpered. “Yes sir,” he mumbled.

His father knelt beside him, yanking his hair so they were making eye contact. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the ashes on his blazer. It didn’t make sense. His father always dressed impeccably. He would never let anyone see a speck of anything- whether it was ash from a cigar or dust- on him.

“What was that?” his father snarled. and all thoughts flew from his mind.

“I said yes sir,” he repeated, loud enough for his father to release him and leave.

When Aaron finally gathered the strength to leave the basement, he threw his ripped, bloodied shirt in the bin. Haley had said it looked nice on him.

But nothing about him would ever be nice. Or good. He was just a failure. A little boy that still, after everything that had happened, just wanted his father to look at him with pride in his eyes and say that he loved him.

His plan had been to avoid the theatre club, and everyone that was part of it, till they grew sick and tired of his absence and just gave his small role to someone else.

Haley had a way of disrupting his plans.

As he exited his last lesson of the day, ready to go straight home and lie to his father about how he had quit the theatre club, she grabbed his arm and started dragging him towards the rehearsal room.

“What are you doing?” he asked, more confused than anything else.

“I promise I’m not following you. I just wanted to talk to you without everyone listening and the walk to theatre club seemed like the perfect opportunity, that’s all,” she said, voice bright.

“Why do you want to talk to me? I swear I’m trying to learn my lines, I just- I don’t know,” he said, trying to ignore the pain in his chest as he realised they would go back to being strangers after he left. He had no other option now, he would have to tell her that he couldn’t.

“I know you are, you silly doofus. I want to talk to you because I like you and I want to hang out with you more, but you’re always vanishing before I can get a word in edgeways and I can never find you at lunch either.” She sounded disappointed. He didn’t have it in him to tell her that he’d deliberately memorised the places she would be so he wouldn’t run into her.

“Why do you want to hang out with me though? I mean, you’re really pretty and smart and could be friends with whoever you wanted, not that I’m trying to control who your friends are, but don’t you want someone more exciting?”

“I think you’re fascinating. You pretend to be all strong and tough and unapproachable, but I’ve seen you help old ladies with their shopping and I watch you with your brother. You’re a good person Aaron. And you’re cute.”

He had no response, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the floor in embarrassment. Haley Brooks thought he was cute. Haley Brooks wanted to be his friend. Haley Brooks was actually interested in him as a person but he was supposed to be quitting the theatre club forever and forgetting that she existed.

She seemed flustered by his lack of response, but he had nothing he could say, so they walked the rest of the way in silence. He held the door open for her, trying to remain   
neutral when she flashed a genuine smile at him- exclusively for him.

“Hi Aaron,” one of her friends said as he went over to pick up his script.

He jumped, hitting his head on the shelf and dropping it.

“Oh my god I am so sorry that was not supposed to happen, it’s just that Haley mentioned how we’d been cold to you and I love her,” she rambled.

He moved back. “It’s fine. Honestly.”

“Are you sure? Because if it isn’t I have no problem taking you to the nurse,” she said, pushing Aaron’s hair off his forehead and wincing when she saw the bruise forming.  
Aaron shifted away from her touch, not even registering the shelves digging into his back. Something about her distressed him. He searched the room for Haley, shivering when he realised she was too far away to see him pleading for her.

“I’m fine. Really. It’s just a bump,” he said, giving her an awkward grin.

“It looks like it’s going to bruise badly,” she pressed.

“I can handle it,” he snapped, gaze softening when her smile fell. He mentally kicked himself. She was just trying to be nice to him. She was one of the few people actually willing to talk to him. “I’m sorry. I just really don’t like people worrying about me.”

She nodded, not completely convinced. Aaron sighed, wondering what it would take for people to trust him. He hadn’t gotten into any fights since the start of the year, his grades were perfect and he wasn’t one of those annoying jocks that cat-called the girls. Well, he wasn’t even a jock but that was besides the point.

“Meredith you look like you’re about to give poor Aaron a heart attack. What on earth is going on?” Haley said as she came over.

Her friend- Meredith- ducked her head, dark brown locks falling in her face as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“It’s nothing really,” Aaron reassured them both.

“I accidentally made him hit his head on the shelf,” Meredith confessed. When Haley looked shocked, she placed her hand on Aaron’s arm. “But he’s fine. Aren’t you, Aaron?”

Aaron nodded, moving his arm till her hand fell limp by her side as he angled his body so he and Haley were stood closer to each other. Meredith’s face was unreadable.

“If the three of you are done, then can we begin? Mr Hotchner, I need you to stand in for Thomas as he’s sick. Miss Brooks, that means teaching him the waltz. Can you manage that?”

Aaron’s heart sped up so much he was surprised nobody else heard it. Haley grinned, grabbing his wrist as she dragged him- for the second time that day- to somewhere he didn’t want to be.

“Of course I can,” she said, winking at him.

He was going to be sick. They were stood so close to each other and she was holding his hand, placing it on her waist, and she was so small compared to him, and her eyes were so beautifully bright. He could see the light sparkling in them, the hope that something would come from the time they were spending together not hidden because why would it be? She placed her own hand on his shoulder, mouth twisting downwards when she realised how thin he was.

“Are you okay?” she whispered as the music started, then stopped as she completely missed her cue.

He shook his head. He was going to destroy her. He was supposed to have quit, but instead he was stood, with his arms around her waist, knowing fully well he could overpower her if he wanted, and she wouldn’t even be able to scream for help. His father was going to kill him if he found out he was there.

No, not him. His mother.

“I can’t be here,” he whispered, pulling away from Haley.

“Aaron?” she said, voice so gentle, soft, untarnished by his darkness.

He shook his head. He hated his name. He hated the way she said it; like it was something to be treated with care. Like it was something that mattered.

He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at anyone. 

He ran from the room, not paying attention to where he was going, just knowing he had to get away from everyone before they viewed him as weak and pathetic, before they   
realised what was going on and got him in even more trouble. 

He didn’t stop running till he reached the boy’s bathroom and had locked himself in a stall before sliding against the wall, finally letting the pain overwhelm him. His back hurt, the wounds still fresh, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he finally sobbed for everything he had already lost and would only continue to lose.

“Aaron? You don’t need to come back to rehearsal or even leave the stall if you don’t want to, but do you mind telling me what’s going on? Everyone- I’m really worried about you,” Haley called out.

“Ha-Haley?” he stuttered between sobs.

She knelt outside. “Yeah. It’s me. What’s going on? Is it something I did?”

“No! It had nothing to do with you. Well it had something to do with you but you weren’t- you should go back to rehearsals. I’m sure they need you a lot more than they need me.” 

“It’s kind of you to say that but they don’t. And I’m not leaving without you. So we can sit here for the whole hour and a half that remains, or you could tell me what’s got you so worked up and we can sort it out.”

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. She was just trying to make him feel better, but her words only made him sob harder. Haley was so innocent. So good and precious. What right did he have to take that from her?

“Aaron? Did I say the wrong thing?” she asked.

“No. No, you didn’t you never say the wrong thing, it’s me. It’s always me. I’m the problem,” he said, wondering why he hadn’t shouted at her yet.

“You aren’t the problem Aaron. Just let me help. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

And there was something about the desperation in her voice that made it impossible for him to reject her.

Before he knew what he had done, he’d unlocked the door and turned his back to her, displaying the years of abuse to her like the mythology book kept on display in the library.  
Haley’s gasp was muffled by her hand. He felt rather than saw her step forward and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain still when he felt her touch one of the welts, still not fully healed. 

“Oh my god. Aaron who did this to you?” Haley whispered.

“My father,” he choked out, more tears spilling onto his cheek. “And if I don’t quit then he’s going to hurt me even more and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle that,” he confessed.

“Why haven’t- does anyone know? Have you told anyone?” Haley asked.

Aaron laughed, but it sounded bitter. “I tried to tell the police. My mom- who he hits as well- turned up and told everyone that I was lying. He broke my arm and I passed out in school because he wouldn’t let me go to the hospital.”

He wasn’t sure why he’d started telling her, but her hands were warm on his back and she made him feel safe. Besides, now that he’d started, he found himself incapable of stopping. It was like the dam had been broken and the pain of the past six years was finally letting itself be known.

“And you know what hurt the most? The fact that everybody suspected something was wrong. Everybody. But they didn’t do anything. They didn’t even try. I was just a kid Hales. Was I really worth so little to them that they didn’t even want to try?”

She wrapped her arms around his bare stomach, pressing herself against him, and after the initial shock that she hadn’t walked away, or laughed in his face, or told him he was just being an attention-seeking liar faded, he realised she was crying.

“Haley?” he asked, turning.

She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re the one who’s been suffering for so long. I just- how could they not believe you? You’re a child. And even if you weren’t a child, they should’ve done something more.”

“It’s a small town. And my father is powerful. I know that. But I always hoped- I don’t know what I hoped.”

“You hoped that they’d do what was best for you. And they suck for not even trying. So tell me. What can I do? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “You already said you believe me. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the bare minimum.”

He bit his lip, unsure how to respond. “Can you tell them that I just can’t commit to the play? Not when I have to do debate, mock trial and get my maths grade up? Please? I just- I can’t look at their faces without wanting to stay.”

“Of course I can. And if there’s anything else please just tell me. Regardless of how stupid you think it might be,” Haley said.

Aaron nodded, not quite meeting her eyes before buttoning his shirt again and leaving.

“It’s not your fault,” Haley whispered as he brushed past her.

He froze. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. About any of it.”

“But Aar-”

“It won’t be me he hurts if anyone finds out,” he said.

Haley paled as realisation dawned on her. “I don’t like that I have to let you go back there.”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine so long as you don’t say anything to anyone.” It was manipulative of him to say that, but he needed to make sure she wouldn’t go behind his back and do the one thing that would guarantee pain.

She sighed, and he relaxed. “Okay.”

He slipped past her without another word.

That evening, his father stumbled home even later than usual. Aaron couldn’t find it in him to be sympathetic when he started painfully coughing during dinner- so much that he had to leave the room. Nor did he care when he came down the stairs to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and he realised that his father’s clothes seemed to be much looser than they had over the summer.

It was what he deserved.

Aaron hadn’t known about his father’s many affairs till he heard some of the old ladies gossiping in church about how maybe Mr Hotchner should listen to the preacher talking about family loyalty instead of claiming he was spending late nights preparing for trials when he was actually doing unspeakable things with the women there.

When he’d turned around, they’d immediately tried to backtrack and undo their words but it was too late. The moment him and his mother were alone- ironically when his father was working late- he asked her. Directly and without hesitation; the way Hotchner men did. She slammed the plate she was washing down with unnecessary force and said it was the one thing she’d never wanted him to find out about.

Deep down, he understood why she’d let the affairs slide: it was the same reason she let everything with his father slide- for the sake of giving her children a shot at having a good life and future- but he’d been angry.

How had he not known? There had been no reason that the work he spent hours doing at the office couldn’t have been done at home. There had been no reason for someone in New York to demand Michael Hotchner represent him in court. How was this the one secret the entire town had managed to keep from him? Part of him wanted to find the women his father had had these affairs with, just to find out who they were and how they could do that to his family. But he knew his mother would prefer to live life blissfully ignorant to who these women were, if only so she could do her weekly shopping in peace, so he stopped himself from doing anything.

Then Sean came into his bedroom in the middle of the night asking if mama and papa still loved each other because when papa came home early from work- Aaron had been in school, preparing for the mock trial and pretending he couldn’t hear the theatre club laughing- they’d started shouting and mama was crying then papa threw something because when he came downstairs, she was on her hands and knees, trying to clean the glass up.

Aaron let Sean sleep in his bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest the entire night. And he made his decision.

That Saturday, only five days after he had quit the theatre club, his father- dressed in his best suit- announced at breakfast that he needed to head into the office because they had a big trial on Monday. 

Aaron told his mother that he was going to the library to study. He’d gotten good at lying to her. He didn’t go to the library. He put his trainers- the same ones that he’d worn when he’d gone to the police- on and waited till he couldn’t see his mother in the window. Then he’d dropped his bag- full of random pieces of old homework- in the bushes and headed in the opposite direction of the library, towards his father’s office.

The building was locked. The lights were off. There was no sign of life. He wasn’t there. Aaron wanted to leave, to turn around and return home, make up some bullshit excuse about why he wasn’t working in the library and lock himself in his room, pretending that he was still blissfully unaware of what was going on.

But the image of Sean forced him to keep going. His father had taken the car. There were only so many places in their small town a person could do, it wouldn’t be that hard to find him.

Aaron did eventually find his father. He was leaving the doctor’s office, holding a file. He was walking quickly with his head down. Nothing like his usual self that took long strides and kept his head high. No, what Aaron was witnessing was a man that didn’t want to be seen by anyone. With a frown, he crept closer, careful to blend in with the small groups of people going about their day.

Michael Hotchner did stop by his office. Aaron knew the small garden area was situated behind it. He snuck into it, watching intently as his father furiously scribbled notes on files and reorganised his entire drawer, removing the few personal items he’d kept in there. Aaron frowned. Maybe the woman he was having an affair with liked to rifle through the items in his drawers and he was trying to hide something. It would make sense for them to meet in his office. They could draw the blinds, lock the doors, and nobody would dare comment on his behaviour. It made Aaron sick, the way everyone knew what was happening but did nothing to stop it because his father was a defence lawyer. He used to think it was noble to defend people who were being falsely accused of heinous crimes. Then he grew up and his view changed. It wasn’t noble to let guilty people walk, and the only time he would ever be able to find it acceptable was if it was the only work available. 

Nobody turned up. His father stopped shuffling papers, shoved everything off the table in a moment of anger and buried his head in his hands. Aaron almost stopped breathing. He’d never seen his father cry. Suddenly, everything he’d done felt like a bad idea. But he couldn’t move. He found himself watching as his father fell to his knees, sobbing. He didn’t dare breathe as he shuddered, the last tears escaping before he gathered the papers, slid them into the drawer and righted the photo of his family (Aaron wasn’t in it) before leaving.

Something made him carry on, as opposed to turning back. He watched as his father drove to the other side of their small town. At first, he was confused. There was very little to do over there. 

Then he saw the building his father was going into and the world turned upside down.

The building he was walking into was a legal office.

A legal office where Mr Oliver worked.

Mr Oliver who wrote the wills of every single town resident.

His father was dying.

His father was dying, and he knew he was dying. He knew he was dying, and that was why Sean had heard their parents shouting. He was dying, and that was why he was coming home late, reeking of alcohol, looking too thin and too tired.

Aaron didn’t feel anything. He’d spent his entire life waiting for his father to die so he would be free. And now it was happening, he didn’t feel any sort of triumph or happiness. He just felt cold. 

Still in shock at his discovery, he walked home, dazed and almost forgetting to pick up his bag.

“How was your study session?” his mother asked as he walked back into the house.

Sean was reading something, not even aware that his brother had returned.

Aaron swallowed. “How long have you known about dad?”

His mother sighed. “Aaron, I told you to drop it. I don’t want to know who they are.”

“Not the affairs. How long have you known he’s dying for?”

Victoria’s eyes widened. But she wasn’t looking at her son. She was looking past him. Aaron spun round. 

His father had come home in the time that they’d been speaking. And he no longer looked like a man that wanted to blend in and be forgotten. He looked angry. Angrier than Aaron had ever seen him. Angrier than he had been when he’d gone to the police. 

Aaron braced himself for the blow. He braced himself for the pain, the verbal lashing, the pain.

Anything and everything.

But it never came.

His father just turned on his heel and went upstairs, gently closing the door to his office. Aaron watched, unsure how to feel. When he heard the click of the lock, he turned to his mother. Her face was pale, one trembling hand pressed to her forehead.

“He’s really dying, isn’t he?” Aaron whispered, the knowledge finally hitting him.

His mother nodded. “It’s lung cancer. The doctor said he has a year, maximum, left.”

Aaron turned away. That bastard didn’t deserve any of his tears. But he wasn’t crying over the fact that he was dying. He was crying over the fact that Sean wasn’t going to   
understand what was going on when it happened, and that he would be forced to go through life without a father. Because no matter what had happened to him, his father had never once laid a hand on Sean. Ever. And he couldn’t even bring himself to be bitter because Sean was his little brother, and he would die before anyone could hurt him.

“Aaron? I’m going to go and speak to your father. Make sure Sean doesn’t do anything please?”

He nodded and went and sat beside Sean. “Hey buddy. What are you reading?”

“Snow White. Are mommy and daddy going to be okay?”

The words got caught in his throat. He coughed, careful to not let any tears escape. “Yeah buddy. Yeah they are. Everything- everything is going to be okay.”

“Okay. Will you read to me? I like the way you do the voices more than the way mommy does.”

Aaron nodded, barely even registering what he was reading.

The next day, he was still numb. He still couldn’t understand why his father had never said anything or why he’d just walked away, despite the obvious anger he was feeling.   
Nothing made any sense, but he was sick of feeling empty and he’d gotten so good and controlling his impulses and he didn’t want to undo all of his progress, but he needed to feel something, anything other than the coldness and-

“You don’t understand! Aaron didn’t do anything wrong. He punched that student because they were trying to take a freshman’s lunch money. A freshman. They’re a senior, they shouldn’t be picking on freshmen. Why don’t you punish them instead?” Haley shouted at the principal.

Aaron had indeed punched a senior in the face because they were trying to bully a freshman. Unfortunately for him, the teachers hadn’t seen their darling quarterback do that. 

They had seen Aaron give him a bloody nose. Haley had apparently seen anything, as she just happened to be walking down the corridor.

“Miss Brooks, calm down, now. Jason is a star student, well on his way to getting a football scholarship from some of the top colleges of the country. I understand that yourself and Mr Hotchner have been spending time together, but there is no excuse for these lies,” he said harshly.

Aaron looked down.

Haley scoffed. “I am not lying!”

“Hales it’s fine. Just leave it.”

“Thank you, Mr Hotchner. You’re suspended for the rest of the week. As you had been doing much better before this, we’ll refrain from putting it on your permanent record. But if I receive any hints that you’re slipping back into old habits, then I won’t hesitate. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Aaron answered meekly.

“We’ve informed your parents. Your mother asked you to go home yourself. Can you do that much?”

He nodded, then left.

“This isn’t fair,” Haley said once the door had closed.

“My dad’s dying,” he blurted out. “He- he’s got a year. Maximum. It’s lung cancer. Something to do with the cigarettes- I don’t know. But that’s why I punched him. I’m not evil. I’m not like him. I just- I needed to feel something and that was the easiest way, but I don’t want to have to do that every time I’m numb because then I’m going to turn out like him and-”

Haley embraced him, soaking the front of his jumper with tears. “I’m so sorry. And I know. You could never be your father. You’re too good. Too loving. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing these people to see what I see. I swear.”

“Thank you Hales,” he whispered, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume. It was comforting.

His father dragged him down to the basement when he got home from work. Aaron cowered beneath him, despite probably being heavier than him. Now that he knew, it all made sense. The lack of care in his appearance. The weight loss. The paleness of his skin.

“You’re a disappointment,” Michael snarled.

Aaron recoiled. It had been so long since his father had insulted him like that. 

“You’re a little bastard, with no concept of respect.”

Haley wasn’t afraid of him.

“Everything you do ends up inconveniencing me, making my already long list of problems even longer.”

Haley wanted to be his friend.

“You’re just an evil boy and I feel sick every time I see your face. Sometimes I wonder if your mother cheated. There’s no way I could’ve ever made a child like you.”

Haley thought he was a good person. Haley defended him, with no regard for the impact it would have on her. Haley wanted everyone to see that he was caring and lovely.

He heard his father remove the belt. “Selfish, ugly, arrogant-”

He never managed to finish his sentence, a coughing fit overtaking him as he dropped the belt, which landed on the floor with a thud. Michael started wheezing. Aaron launched to his feet, wondering if the doctors had been completely wrong. If this was the end, and if there was something- anything- he was meant to do.

“Papa?” he asked, hating how small he sounded.

“Leave. Just leave,” Michael shouted.

There was blood on his sleeve from where he'd wiped his mouth. Aaron’s eyes widened.

“I told you to leave,” Michael said, voice dangerously low. 

Aaron ran. He ran from the basement to his room without taking a single breath. And it was only when he’d locked his bedroom door that he finally let himself cry. Not just because his father was dying. But because he’d never wanted to feel sympathy for that man. And because he didn’t know how he was going to keep his mother and brother alive when his father was gone.

In August, the doctors told Michael and Victoria Hotchner that he had a year left to live.

In November, his family buried him, his wife dressed in a modest black dress, head held high and proud despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. The youngest son didn’t know what was going on, pulling at his tie and shifting awkwardly. He’d clearly been crying though, if he didn’t know his daddy wasn’t coming home. The eldest hadn’t cried. He stared into the distance, something akin to relief on his face. The blonde girl from his school held his hand the entire time, only letting go when his mother called him up to say a few words.

In December, there was a noticeable shift in Aaron’s existence. He no longer turned up to school with bags under his eyes. He was more comfortable answering questions. His clothes stopped being so loose on him. He joined the theatre club again, taking on the role of Pirate Number Four.

His teachers tried to approach him about what had happened. He ignored every single one of them. It was the only time that anyone would look at him and say he was his father’s son. He was still his father’s image, but where Michael Hotchner had been cold and calculating, Aaron was soft and joyous. Kind and helpful. Unless someone asked if he wanted to tell them anything about his life before his father died. Then he would take on the same cold tone his father had used in court as he told them to fuck off. 

In April, he made his one and only appearance on stage. His mother and brother were sat in the audience, cheering him and Haley on. When they took their final bows, Haley held onto his hand for longer than she needed to, only letting go when she had no other choice. When they were stood outside the desert parlour, waiting for their parents in full costume, she asked him out on a date. He managed to say yes, and everyone cheered as she kissed him. 

In July, him and Haley were crowned prom king and queen, despite neither of them being aware that they were in the running. He led her round the dancefloor with minimal effort, as he was a proper Southern gentleman that knew how to dance. She looked beautiful in her gown. Aaron hoped the next time they danced together like that would be at their wedding. Because he loved her, with everything he was.

He told her that, as they snuck out for a moment alone and watched the stars. She looked at him with such adoration in her eyes and told him that she loved him as well. They kissed, not for the first time, but it still felt different.

There was a promise to have and to hold, in sickness and in health in that kiss.

In August, they moved to college. They weren’t living together and were taking a short break to see whether or not they clicked properly- Aaron’s idea because despite everything Haley had said, he still, in the back of his mind, had convinced himself she deserved better. She said she deserved someone that loved her for the person she was, without any judgement and that he was that person.

He wasn’t sure he was. He wasn’t sure that he ever would be. But he knew he wouldn’t destroy Haley’s lightness. He wouldn’t let himself.

Aaron Hotchner was an adult now, with stars in his eyes and light coursing through his veins. But as he would go on to learn, every candle eventually burnt out. And darkness never goes away. Not truly.


	2. the moments in between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the moments the show never gave us as we see how the biggest cases of hotch's life impacted him, going from his last case as a prosecutor, right up to him passing out in route 66 and ending with him seeing the love of his life- his yellow- again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: minor character deaths, death of a parent, implied/referenced child abuse, court cases involving a not guilty verdict to a charge of abuse, arson, references to cancer, references to the death of a child, vomit/sickness, references to self-harm and suicide, stabbing, canon-typical violence, blood, implied/reference drug addiction, references to domestic violence (this is between hotch's parents), disordered eating/some unhealthy eating habits
> 
> if i have missed anything, please let me know! this is quite a heavy chapter

Aaron Hotchner was a lawyer full of contradictions. 

He had graduated at the top of his class, but he never once referenced his own father’s abilities when he started practicing. And instead of becoming a defence lawyer- a role that would have led to him holding a position of power within weeks- he became a criminal prosecutor.

He claimed it was what called to him.

In reality, it was because he refused to let anything else be tainted by the memory of his father. He remembered the nights where his father would come home and talk about the horrible things his clients had done. He remembered how he had laughed and said he would be able to make all of those things go away with a few words. He remembered how his stomach had tightened at the injustice of it all.

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was an adult. He was as close to happy as he could be when he spent his days looking at photos of people who had lives, and hopes, and dreams that were cut short. When an ordinary day at work meant putting some bad people behind bars whilst he was forced to let others go free.

When he was in court, he was amazing. He was cold and emotionless. People genuinely believed he had no emotions, that there was nothing that could faze him. Killers and abusers would hurl insults at him, defence lawyers would pull random laws from nowhere and he would take it. He would think on his feet and come up with something. But then there were sudden moments where he would look so vulnerable. Like when he spoke to a child, a young woman, the family that thought they hadn’t done anything to save their loved one.

The only time he would smile was when the blonde woman in his life would appear. Sometimes it was with lunch, dressed semi-casually, hair slightly messy and pen on her face from whatever it was she was doing. Other times it would be in a pretty dress. Those would be the days where he would look mildly terrified for a moment, before grinning and leading her out the office. On the bad days where they would be forced to come in on a weekend, she would come in with her own work and keep him company.

Haley had gone into teaching. High school history, although she always helped with the various productions held. She was a natural with the kids, always doing her best to be understanding and helpful, instead of confrontational and harsh. Despite this, there were still nights where she would come home, not saying anything. Those nights, Aaron would wrap his arms around her and let her cry about the injustice of the system.

Those were the nights he remembered just how lucky he was that she had taken a chance on him, unlike everyone else, who had left him to suffer. He didn’t want to think about where he would’ve been without her. Or if he would’ve even been anywhere on this earth.

So their lives weren’t perfect, and he woke up screaming some nights, but they were good. They both had stable jobs in the same area, which meant they could eat dinner together and fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. Haley liked linking their hands together so she could look at their wedding rings. 

The wedding had been small, more for her parents than anyone else. He still didn’t believe he was worth loving. She had always dreamt of a wedding, but with Aaron none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was him being around. Her parents however, weren’t having any of it and even offered to pay for the wedding if that was the problem.

Haley had very kindly told them to keep their money. If her and Aaron were to get married, they would do it the way they wanted to, with their savings and their budget.

In the end, the wedding had been a compromise. Haley’s entire family, all of her high school friends and sorority sisters were invited, and everyone but Meredith attended. Aaron’s mother and brother came, as well as some of his friends from law school, but the list of people he actually wanted there was even shorter than Haley’s. She refused a seating plan for that exact reason.

After they cut the cake, they managed to sneak away for a few minutes. The wedding had been outdoors. They could see the stars. And when Aaron looked at her, he fell in love all over again. He could hear the music faintly, and so he had offered his hand and they had danced, feeling like they were seventeen all over again. That night, there had been no darkness inside him. Only joy.

And as one of his favourite authors, Joseph Campbell, had written: find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

But when you saw the things he did, it was difficult to find a place where joy could survive. And even when it was there, it was temporary. Because no matter what he, and everyone else in the district attorney’s office did, the evil never stopped. There was always somebody else getting hurt. Another victim not being believed. A lawyer quitting because they couldn’t keep looking at the worst of humanity and surviving.

Aaron’s own last case haunted him years after he joined the FBI.

He had been on edge for a while. Christmas had come and gone. With it, the never-ending questions from various colleagues and family members about when he was next coming home. When was Haley going to have a baby? Were they even trying for a child? Was Aaron having some difficulties? Or worst of all, when was he going to let go of his grand delusions and silly ideas and settle down as a defence lawyer?

Returning to his real home- the apartment him and Haley resided in, that had come to life with their little knick-knacks- had been a relief. She wasn’t fond of going home and seeing everyone that had failed Aaron, but she loved her family and friends. Aaron could never get away fast enough. She respected that. It was why they worked.

The new year came, and with it, new cases.

Aaron wasn’t trying to bring a killer to justice with only the evidence from the crime scenes and the testimony of families. He was trying to save an innocent child and make sure the only monsters in their life were the ones imaginary ones under the bed, instead of the father they said was abusing him and his mother.

It was like looking in a mirror. An innocent child finally snapping and telling the police the truth about their home life. But where Aaron had been mocked and told to stop being a liar, the police had listened. Gathered the evidence. They had done their job. Now it was time for Aaron to do his.

He poured over the files for hours. He found every piece of evidence he could. He would not fail this child. Not the same way he had been. He would find the truth behind every hospital visit, between every tear they had ever shed and he would make sure that the old bastard’s wife and son never had to be scared for their lives ever again. 

Aaron was going to do what nobody ever did for him.

It was a week before the trial. New evidence had been located. It was all important, obviously, but there was something they were missing. Something Aaron knew would make all the difference to their case. He just needed to find out.

His phone lit up. Sean was calling him. He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be dealing with his younger brother’s complaints in that moment. And he certainly couldn’t be lending him any more money. Him and Haley were saving for a mortgage. Then they would have a real home. Somewhere to call their own. 

Somewhere to eventually raise their own children.

Sean tried to call him two more times. And Aaron declined two more times. It was a bit strange that he was phoning so consecutively, but it was probably nothing. No, not probably, definitely. It always was.

He turned back to the files, making sure his phone was on silent. When the clock ticked to six, he hurriedly locked majority of the files away in his cabinet and put the ones that had just come through into his briefcase. Haley had planned a nice evening for the two of them. But if- when- he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at least he could do something productive.

There were two more missed calls from Sean. Aaron made a mental note to phone him when he got home.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then I’m yours, I promise,” he said as he entered their living room, shoes already neatly put away on the porch.

There were two packed bags on the couch. Haley was sat, wearing a black dress, hands in her lap, landline next to her. Her head was bent, but her body was shaking as tears slipped down her cheek, dampening the fabric.

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he knelt in front of her. “Baby,” he whispered.

She shook her head. 

“Baby, what happened? Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“Your mom’s gone,” she said.

“What?” Aaron whispered.

“I’m so sorry Aaron. I am so- that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you. It’s just- Sean said she was admitted to the hospital earlier, and she passed away about an hour ago. They phoned here because you didn’t answer your cell phone. I tried to explain everything, really, but they wouldn’t let me speak and-”

“She’s really gone,” Aaron said.

Haley embraced him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck as he sobbed, the knowledge still not sinking in, but the emptiness in his heart was threatening to overwhelm him entirely. They sat like that for what may have been hours or minutes as his body shook. Only when his tears turned to hiccups did Haley pull away, gently wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“You should shower. There’s nothing else you can do now,” she said.

Aaron shook his head. Haley stood and led him to the bathtub. 

“All you need to do is keep your head up for me, okay?”

The shower had no effect on him. Haley helped him dress. He felt like a small child, needing someone’s assistance to button his shirt up. But he couldn’t make his body cooperate with him. He couldn’t do anything, still in shock that she was gone.

Haley put the bags in the boot. Aaron got in the passenger side. He spent the journey staring out the window. When the buildings became more familiar, he closed his eyes, not opening them until they reached Haley’s old home. He turned to her in confusion.

“Sean is staying with a friend tonight. Going back to that house is not something you need to do today. My parents already said we could stay with them.”

Of course they did. Because everyone must’ve already known that his mother died. His mother had died and he hadn’t been there because he’d ignored his brother’s phone calls. What kind of person did that make him? 

Haley no longer had the key. She rang the doorbell, one arm still wrapped around him as they awkwardly stood outside. Hotch remembered the first time he had gone to her house for dinner. It had been after his father passed away. He’d spent the entire meal feeling uncomfortable. Like the Brooks’ weren’t going to approve of him. 

Her mother had hugged him, cradling the back of his head, whispering her condolences, both for what had been lost and for what the town had failed to do. Roy Brooks had shaken his hand, saying that anyone would be proud to call him their son. Jessica had dragged him to one side and said they’d all known about Haley sneaking him in during the night, but nobody knew what to say.

When he got home, he crawled into bed and sobbed. For the first time, somebody loved him unconditionally.

It was her mother that answered the door. When she saw who it was, she ushered them in. Aaron remembered at the last moment that he was supposed to take his shoes off. Haley led him to the living room.

Roy embraced him. “You’re freezing,” he whispered. “Darling, put some tea on. Aaron, how are you feeling?”

He shook his head. He did not deserve kindness. Not in this moment.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Just drink some tea and then got some sleep. Haley’s old bedroom has been set up for the two of you. And we’ll both be here if you need anything. The next few days are going to be draining for both of you, so please, don’t hesitate in asking for any kind of support.”

“Thank you Papa,” Haley said, rubbing her husband’s back.

Aaron tried to smile, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

Roy was the one who drove him to the funeral home. Haley had offered, but she had already driven them from their apartment, which had tired her out because she hated driving, so Aaron had declined, having every intention to bear the burden alone. But as he was slipping his shoes on, Roy had emerged, saying nobody should have go alone.

Sean was waiting outside for the two of them, eyes red, biting his nails. When Aaron looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine him as the eighteen-year-old about to go to college that he was. When Aaron looked at his little brother, he just saw the little boy who didn’t understand that their dad wasn’t coming home. Only this time, there were no comforting lies to give him. He understood everything. Including Aaron’s failure.

“How could you?” Sean whispered the moment he saw his brother.

Aaron looked down. 

“She was in the hospital, constantly asking where you were. She didn’t care that I was there. She just wanted to know where her precious baby was, and I had to keep lying and say that you were coming when in reality, I had no fucking clue where you were. It was not supposed to be me holding her hand. It was supposed to be you. But you weren’t there, and so you have no right to turn up, now looking all sad and pathetic.”

Michael Hotchner had not been right about much. But he had been right about one thing. Aaron Hotchner was his mirror. Sean Hotchner was his son.

“Sean Hotchner. That is enough. You do not get to disrespect your brother or your mother like that. Go inside, and do not create another scene,” Roy snapped.

When Sean departed, he turned to Aaron, who was shaking.

“Son?”

“He’s right,” Aaron whispered. “I should have been there. He- Sean phoned me and I didn’t answer because I thought it was stupid and I had this case and- I failed her.”

“Look at me. It’s not your fault. It was her time to go, and you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. Sean is angry and grieving, and he doesn’t mean a single word of what he said. You’re a good man, doing a good job and you make my daughter happy. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, not truly believing him. He followed Sean into the funeral home, where they spent the next few hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Aaron wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t know how. Not when Sean stood as far away from him as possible.

The funeral was a day later. Once again, Haley held his hand until the priest called him up to say a few words. Aaron managed to make it through his eulogy with minimal tears, but the moment he was back beside his wife, he turned away from the grave, letting the tears fall.

The people were silently judging him for what he had failed to do. Roy glared at everyone that dared tried to voice these opinions. They were wrong. Aaron hadn’t failed anyone. He’d gotten there the moment he was supposed to, and if those people were even half as religious as they liked to claim they were, they would know that.

“You take as long as you need,” Haley whispered, when everyone else, even Sean had departed.

Aaron nodded, holding the flowers he’d grabbed from the car to his chest like a baby. He watched as Haley left, going to sit in the car to give him the space he needed. He’d told them all to drive home, that the walk would do him some good. He watched on unsteady legs as the car faded from view.

And then he fell to his knees, sobbing, one hand pressed to his mouth to stop too much noise from escaping, the other blindly feeling around for the flowers left by Sean. Their mother had hated roses- somehow, she always managed to prick her finger on the thorns. The only reason they had ever been in the house was because on the days where people would come round, his father would turn up with a bouquet of them, and she would dutifully smile and accept them.

Aaron moved the roses so they were hidden by all the other flowers they had left. And then he put his own small bouquet of carnations right where the headstone would go.

“Mama, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he walked away, unable to stand the sight of the grave anymore.

The defence ripped him and his witnesses to shreds.

The verdict was not guilty.

The child was sent home.

“You promised me,” they sobbed as their father stood with an easy smirk on his face.

He was sick the moment he got home. Haley didn’t say a word. She just showed him an advert for the FBI that had been posted through the letterbox. When he stared at her, she smiled. Said that she had married Aaron Hotchner the man, not Mr Hotchner the prosecutor.

Two weeks later, he was enrolling in the FBI Academy.

Six months later and he was Agent Hotchner. He liked that. It was his own, and nobody would ever associate the title with his father. He could be his own person.

Then David Rossi gave him the nickname of Hotch and he couldn’t be happier. It would’ve made his mother smile. And his father turn in his grave at the utter shame of his good name being reduced down to something so mundane.

But being a profiler was tough. Every case meant dealing with the very worst of humanity. And even among the worst, there was a hierarchy. Some cases were just more disgusting, more scary and more scarring than others. A few cases reminded him that profilers were all just a step away from becoming unsubs themselves. That the line could and would blur before any of them even realised.

Vincent Perrotta left him vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. Jason had told him to loosen his tie and undo his top button, but Aaron needed the reassuring pressure of both things at his neck in order to maintain some kind of illusion of control in spite of the damage done by the wire.

He didn’t open up to unsubs. One of the most important parts of conducting an interrogation was to make them think you understood them without giving away anything about yourself. And most of the time, he was good at doing that. He pretended to understand the hatred of children, pretended to agree with them when they claimed that all women were just manipulative bitches and he pretended to find it amusing when they thought that the person doing the act was right.

The key word was pretend.

He wasn’t pretending when he looked Perrotta in the eye and told him the one thing that only Haley and Dave were aware of. Had it been any other time, it would’ve been funny. His own team didn’t know what his father had done to him, but this serial killer did, and it was all because he’d slipped up and said us instead of them.

Hotch had never been so thankful there was a bathroom on the same floor as his office that nobody ever used. The moment Perrotta turned away, the realisation that his crimes had never been inevitable causing more distress than the murder of the woman had, Hotch had bolted.

He hadn’t eaten since the incident in the night. It hurt to swallow. Which meant despite the minutes he spent retching over the toilet seat, hands trembling because how many times had he looked in the mirror and seen the exact same look that he’d witnessed on Perrotta, nothing came out.

Morgan was stood by the door.

“I know we have a no profiling rule.”

“Then follow it.”

“Reid’s doing your paperwork. He’s surprisingly good at forging your handwriting and I’m not sure I want to know why. That means all you need to do is sign it. Go home.”

“You’re not my superior Morgan,” Hotch snapped.

Morgan didn’t even blink. “I know. But you won’t write me up for insubordination. There’s no reason for you to be here, but there is every reason for you to be at home.”

Their relationship was a strange one. They trusted each other as agents- it was the only way they were able to go out in the field- but not as individuals. But then every once in a  
while, Derek would do something like this and Hotch would wonder if it was his way of saying that he did indeed care.

He was right though. There was every reason for him to be at home.

The living room light was off, so he immediately headed upstairs. Jack was asleep in his crib. Hotch felt uneasy in the nursery. Both he and Haley knew this was their forever home, which was why they had a nursery- it could be Jack’s bedroom until he moved out- but after Karl Arnold, he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to see him in the night.

“He won’t wake up if you hold him,” Haley said from the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he replied, feeling guilty that he must have woken her.

“No, I shouldn’t. What happened?”

“How do you know something happened?”

She shrugged. “I know you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to burden you. You already put up with enough from me.”

She crept closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was transported back to the bathroom, only now the scars on his back had healed but not faded and more, both visible and hidden, covered his body because profiling always damaged people.

“You’re not burdening me. I’m asking.”

“Serial killer. His dad abused him and his mom. I accidentally told him that some of us grow up to catch them. But Hales, the look on his face. It was like he finally realised that everything he did had been because of him, not because of his father and I just, I sympathised. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”

“I saw myself in him. The person I might have become if you hadn’t saved me,” he confessed, still watching his son.

Haley’s grip loosened. He realised what he had said.

“Aaron that wasn’t me. You saved yourself. You got out and you decided you were going to break the cycle. That was you. I just helped you along the way. Hey, look at me.”

He turned, tears in his eyes. Haley smiled, still as bright and good as the day they met. She took his hands and lifted them to her lips, placing a soft kiss to them before leaning past him and lifting Jack up. The baby stirred slightly, but did not wake, even when Haley handed him to Aaron.

“You won’t hurt him. Or me. You will never be like the people that you hunt down. I will die before that ever happens,” she said. There was such raw passion in her voice that the tears finally fell. 

Haley would die before he hurt someone. And he had made a vow to her father the day they married that he would keep her safe, and a second the day he joined the FBI that if Haley were to die, it would not be because of his job.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting Jack down so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do. Because to her it was. She just wished he could understand that.

He didn’t know how to say the words. Not in the way that she needed. So instead he smiled, took one last look at his baby and walked away. He pretended to be fine because 

Haley shouldn’t have to worry about her. In reality, the moment she fell asleep, he went and checked the locks. Again.

The darkness shouldn’t have been able to creep in, but it did. It always did.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too rough with you,” Gideon said, taking the seat opposite him.

Hotch looked at him. Gideon gave him that smile that never seemed to be aimed at him anymore. He sighed, fiddling with the pen he’d placed on the paperwork he hadn’t touched since boarding the jet. Talking to Abby’s son had been more painful than he’d expected, but somebody needed to do it. It was the least they could do for him.

“I’ve handled worse,” he replied.

Gideon hmmed at that. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I made you some tea. Herbal. Apparently it’s calming. You should drink it.”

Hotch stared at the mug like it was going to poison him. Then he carried on staring out the window. It was dark, and there wasn’t really much to see, but he couldn’t keep looking  
at the sympathy on Jason’s face. It made him feel sick. He wasn’t the one that had lost a father that day. He had just gotten too close, again, despite constantly telling everyone that wasn’t something they could do.

It was impossible to get the image of him burning to death out of his mind. Whilst he wanted to believe Abby’s death had been swift and painless, much like his own father’s heart attack, he knew that was impossible. He’d seen enough burn victims to know it took time for that happen. He wondered if, in those final moments, Abby regretted his decision.

“Hotch there was nothing we could have done to save him,” Gideon said gently. He wished Dave was still there. He would know what to say, what to do. Gideon had never had that relationship with Aaron. He liked to think he had that relationship with Spencer, but Aaron was different. He didn’t understand him.

“I should have stopped him. He should have had more time. If only so he could look at his son and tell him what was going on.”

Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Spencer mentioned that you had gone to see the family. Why didn’t you send JJ? She is our media liaison, that’s her job description, not yours.”

“JJ wouldn’t have understood. I had to go. It had to be me.” Hotch didn’t really know why he was telling Gideon any of this. 

“It was your penance, wasn’t it? You think it’s your fault that he died, so you decided to make the fallout your responsibility. Hotch, you’re the Unit Chief now. The team look to you. You can’t tell them to do one thing and then do the exact opposite.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be SSA Hotchner, or even Hotch. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be Aaron, because even though Haley and Dave- the only people that used his first name- had always treated it like something precious, the ghost of his father made him think the only way it could be said was with disdain. 

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Jason was watching him. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, watching the other members of the team. JJ and Emily were laughing at something that Morgan was saying. Reid was smiling. Hotch felt relieved. It had been far too long since Reid had smiled, and he knew he was the one to blame.

Jason followed his gaze. “They’ve all come so far, haven’t they? One day, they won’t even need us.”

That startled Hotch. His eyes met Gideon’s and he realised his mistake immediately.

“I see. It wasn’t just Abby you saw yourself in. It was his son. That’s why you went. You were compensating.”

“Please don’t profile me,” he whispered, knowing it was useless.

“I’m not. Now I know I’m no David Rossi or Haley Brooks, but I am here. However much you may not agree, I am.”

It was useless to say that he didn’t think that. Because he did, and it was written in the hesitance of his decisions. Of his constant watching. Of the pile of paperwork in his office that was meant to be Jason’s.

“I wanted- needed- to know who it was that my father had been having an affair because everyone, including my own mother, had known. But then he was diagnosed with cancer and all of that became irrelevant. I never got my answers, and it still hurts, even now.”

Nobody, not even Haley, knew about that. She obviously had her suspicions, and she knew about his lack of closure, but he had never properly told her. 

Jason wasn’t saying anything. Hotch looked at him and saw that the other man was looking past him, not at him. He followed his gaze, and realised he was looking at Spencer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled as Derek ruffled his hair.

He turned back, and saw that Jason was watching Spencer with the soft smile he had never managed to evoke. He blinked back tears. He missed Dave. He wanted Dave because Dave would know what to say to stop him feeling like such crap. Jason didn’t. Because Jason loved Spencer more than he loved Aaron, and Aaron couldn’t even fathom resenting either of them for that because it wasn’t either of their faults.

It was just a fact of life. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when instead of replying, Gideon stood and went over to the other members of the team, intently listening to whatever it was Spencer was saying.

Haley would tell him to phone Dave. But he couldn’t disrupt his book tour like that. Instead, he kept staring out the window, trying to forget how beautiful the flames had looked against the darkness of the night or how deep down, he almost wished it had been him in there.

It was too close to the line between profiler and unsub.

He bottled up his emotions and hoped that Jason would stay. If not for him, then for Spencer. Because he couldn’t be that person. He was barely that person for Jack.

Jason did not stay. Neither did Haley. They both reached their breaking points and then Hotch pushed them too far.

Deep down, he knew the moment where they both decided they couldn’t take it anymore, the moment where they finally admitted to themselves that they deserved better and they took the steps to get there.

He just never expected they would happen on the same day. He supposed he’d bought that upon himself though. It was him that had said Jason was okay to return to work, for the purely selfish reason that he couldn’t do it alone even though he knew Gideon needed more time. It was him that had left on the case because Morgan had asked him to, even though Haley had asked him not to.

What kind of marriage was that? He didn’t know who had phoned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but there was no guarantee that Haley was having an affair. To suggest that she was would be cruel. It would only be because he didn’t want to have to take accountability for his part in the breakdown of their marriage.

It did take two to tango.

But where Jason took a piece of Spencer’s heart, Haley took the reason Hotch had never been able to stop hunting down monsters.

Morgan told him they would survive without Gideon. Hotch knew they would, but he wasn’t sure he could. Gideon’s departure, as much as he didn’t want to seem narcissistic, would reflect on him. He hadn’t saved him. He hadn’t been able to save his marriage- because Haley had done all she had and it had been his turn- and now the unsub’s last words were haunting his memory.

He had always taken pride in the fact that he was a difficult man to profile. A face schooled into a cautious look of neutrality, suits that hid the fact that he never seemed to have an appetite anymore. The only thing that ever gave away his nerves was the small hand thing he had never been able to stop doing.

For his own profession to be used against him in such a way, so soon after he had failed to save so many people- the six agents in Boston, Elle, Jason, Haley- was disarming. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Normally, he would’ve gone to the home where Haley would have left a light on for him. He would’ve watched his son sleep and just stared at him in awe. He would’ve pressed a kiss to Haley’s forehead before climbing into their bed and seeking her warmth. Maybe, if it had been too late to go home, he would’ve taken Jason to the piano night down at the bar.

But Haley had taken her warmth and the thing that made their house a home with her. All the rooms would be dark when he got back. Jack’s room would be empty. Their bed would be cold.

He hadn’t slept alone since college. It hurt, to wake up in the morning and not see Haley’s hair, messy and knotted.

He just didn’t want to be alone, but who was he supposed to tell?

“Reid. I’ll drop you home. It’s been a long few days,” he said.

Everyone else had left. Reid looked up with wide eyes. He looked so painfully young, and Hotch felt a slight pain in his stomach. What was this job doing to him? Spencer deserved better than sleepless nights and painful memories that would never be forgotten. Hotch guessed that one day, Spencer would be added to the list of people he had failed to save.

In some ways, he already was.

“I can go myself,” Spencer mumbled.

“Reid. Let me do this. Please,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “Okay.”

They left, the car far too silent for either of them to be comfortable. Hotch wanted to debate something intellectual, if only to soothe Spencer’s nerves, but the words classic  
narcissist still left a bitter taste in his mouth. And his mind had gone completely blank regarding anything else.

“We’ve driven past the turning. The route that you’re now going down would mean that getting to my apartment would take an hour extra.”

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, subtly checking that the car doors were locked. “You’re coming home with me. I don’t think you should go home alone.”

Reid turned to face him properly. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child. I get enough of that from everyone else. Gideon left me with a letter, just like my dad. He’s not going to come back and rationally, I have to accept that, because refusal to do so won’t change anything.”

“Maybe. But you should know better than anyone that we can’t control our brains.”

He realised the moment the words left his mouth that it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he immediately regretted them. What Reid thought he was trying to imply was definitely not what he was, but the words had come out wrong and now Reid was going to hate him too.

“I do. Know that. Don’t need you reminding me.”

He sounded just like Jack. Hotch swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, that came out badly. What I meant was that you’re allowed to feel like you’re being irrational. Missing Gideon is a valid emotion, regardless of the way he left us. You. I meant you.”

They were stuck at a red light.

“Hotch, why haven’t you transferred?” Reid asked suddenly.

He shifted slightly. “My reason for doing it is no longer a thing.”

Reid frowned, and Hotch hit the gas.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Is it our fault?”

Hotch shook his head. “Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault.”

Reid wasn’t convinced. 

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he blurted out. “That’s why I’m taking you to the house. Because I can’t be alone and I need to feel like I’m doing something to help someone otherwise, what is the point in all of this?”

“This is about what the unsub said, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t had a conversation like this in so long. Not since before Hankel, his brain supplied.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I failed to help Elle. I failed to help you, and Jason and Haley and god knows who else,” he said.

Spencer looked at him, chin tilted “You said: Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault. How is this any different?”

Hotch sighed. “I had a responsibility to the other members of my team because I am meant to be their leader. You, on the other hand, are still just a kid, who has no connection whatsoever to my marriage.”

“I may be young, but I am in no way a child. And no, I didn’t have any connection to your marriage but I still don’t get your point. Elle and Gideon made their decisions of their own free will and there is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop them because when somebody is that determined to do something, they will always find a way.”

They’d pulled into the driveway. Hotch still hadn’t adjusted to the curtains still being open, for everyone to see and it took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The porch light hadn’t been on for a while, yet it was still a shock to the system. Haley’s light was just another thing he had taken for granted.

“When did you get so smart?” Hotch whispered. In some ways, he felt like he had watched as Spencer had grown from the new agent, doubting his worth and his abilities, to the slightly more confident that he had a family man that was now sat next to him. He hoped Spencer never lost his softness, or the things that made him the person he was, for there was nothing sadder.

“Hotch, I’ve always been smart. When Gideon returned after Boston, you introduced me as your expert on everything and then I told the man we were interviewing that I have an IQ of 187.”

“Never change Spencer.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you stay the night?” Hotch asked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. But I want this to be your decision. If you’d rather be alone, then I will take you to your apartment and we’ll never speak about it again.”

They sat for a few minutes, and Hotch resisted the urge to tell Spencer to hurry up.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” he finally decided, voice small.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that the house was still littered with small traces of Haley and the life they had spent together.

The two of them ate in relative silence, and then Hotch set them both up in the living room. He wanted- needed- to keep an eye on Spencer, but he told him that when Haley and him bought their first apartment and started living together, they would camp out in the living room because there was nobody to tell them not to.

He left out the part where it was also because Aaron had never really been allowed to sit wherever he wanted and do whatever he felt like.

There was some old documentary about the Russian Revolution in the background. Spencer had fallen asleep, his head in Hotch’s lap. Without even realising, Hotch had started stroking his hair, much like he used to do for Jack.

The light in the living room was on, and not once did Spencer wake. Hotch made them both breakfast- pancakes, because the look of joy when he said he probably had all the ingredients was not one he wanted to destroy- and Spencer gave him a genuine smile.

Neither of them spoke of it again, but Hotch felt a little lighter. A little bit more like the Aaron Haley had fallen in love with again. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he saved Spencer, and even if it was only a little, and well after he should’ve, at least he had done it.

That would be enough to keep the darkness out, if only for a little bit.

Megan Kane died and Aaron- not Hotch, because Hotch would say that you can’t take cases personally, no matter how much you wanted to, held her hand. He held her hand as she said thank you for staying and not leaving. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he didn’t walk away for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t have her considering him to be the same as the other men she’d killed.

Not after everything she’d done. The chip was safely tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be passed on.

Even when her chest stopped rising, he refused to let go, only doing so when the police kicked the already open door to her room in, guns raised. When they stepped onto the balcony, he dropped her hand, watching as it fell limply. He didn’t know how long he had been sat there, but it was long enough for the body to go cold.

“Agent Hotchner. We need you to provide a statement. You were the only person present when she died,” the lead detective said.

Aaron stood, suddenly so angry at everything and everyone. “She took the pills and gave me the card. And then she asked me to stay so I did. Then she died. What more do you need than that?”

He didn’t want to tell them what she’d said. It was stupid, but it felt private.

He stormed out the room before they could respond and stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart.

Both Dave and Emily tried to make him feel better the whole way home. It was all to no avail. Their attempts to comfort him went over like a lead balloon. The only indication he’d even heard them was the slight clench of his jaw and his adamant stare out the window, his report on the table, only the first sentence written. When Dave tried to crack a joke,  
Hotch glared and he backed off.

Emily sat by him. Whilst her general presence usually never failed to make him feel a little better, it was just irritating him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He didn’t want them walking on eggshells. He wanted them to just leave him.

But then he felt bad. Because the one person he wanted had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with his job, and the rest were just trying to be there for him and that should’ve been enough for him.

When they got to the office, he did something he’d only done a few times before. He put the files on his desk and then he exited it. He needed to see his son. He needed to go to his real home- because now Haley was living in the house, it felt like a home again.

Haley had responded to his message about coming by with a simple: Ok. He still felt wrong profiling her, so he didn’t.

She had changed the locks. He didn’t have the key. And so he was stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to open the door whilst he rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring had previously been. The tan line had all but faded. He felt pathetic for still reaching for it sometimes.

She opened the door. “There’s a birthday party that he’s been excited about for- you’re wearing a case suit.”

“I’m- what?”

She frowned. “Why are you wearing a case suit?”

“A case suit?”

“Yes. There are suits that you would only ever wear when you were on a case because they could be washed a lot more easily, and if you got blood on them, well you weren’t attached to them. How were you not aware of this?”

“I guess it was a subconscious thing. Look, we just landed but I-” he saw Jack peeking his head around the door. 

On reflex, he crouched down. He remembered how he had felt when he was younger and his father would come storming in, towering over him, terrifying and threatening. He never wanted Jack to feel like that. And so he knelt down, burying his head in Jack’s neck for a moment before letting go.

“Hi buddy. How are you feeling?”

Jack stopped smiling. “I accidentally made mommy annoyed because I drew on the wall. But then she said that sometimes people feel bad emotions and that’s okay, you just need to be good about it. And then once we cleaned it up, she said that I’m not a bad kid, I just did a wrong thing.”

Hotch felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Haley was so good. Too good.

“She’s right. One act doesn’t determine who you are,” he said, voice cracking.

“Jack, mommy and daddy need to go and talk in the kitchen, so just stay in the living room, okay?”

Jack nodded.

Hotch followed Haley, noticing the last photo that was taken of the three of them before the divorce- although at the time nobody knew- was still stuck to the fridge.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

Aaron turned away. “That’s not your job anymore.”

“Baby,” she said.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time somebody had called him that?

“I know what I said then. Trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget. But I was wrong. This is who you are. And I never should’ve asked you to change. I think the divorce was the  
best thing for both of us, because it was needed. But I still love you. And I know you won’t tell the team. So tell me.”

And he did. He told her everything. “The worst part is, she was right. I should be here every week, but Jack’s lucky if I’m here every fortnight. Haley, I always said I didn’t want to become a father because of how he hurt me. What kind of father am I if Jack is going to say the same thing?”

For a while Haley did not speak. They were just stood, a good six feet between them. And then she threw her arms around him. The force of her touch threw him off balance.  
When was the last time anyone had actually touched him? If he was struggling to remember, then it must’ve been far too long.

The smell of her shampoo felt like coming home and before he knew what was happening, he could taste the salt of his tears.

She stroked his hair and he relaxed into the touch, despite all the knots. He had always hated brushing his hair but loved when Haley would run her hands through it. She messed it up as he sobbed into her shoulder, and not for the first time, she wondered how many more times he could stare into the depths of depravity and come back whole.

Although, she thought to herself bitterly, he’d never been given the chance to be whole in the first place.

At some point, they’d started sitting on the kitchen floor. She was still playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

Aaron looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could not resist the urge to press a soft kiss to his forehead before tugging him closer.

“Sleep here. I’ll take Jack to the party, and you can rest. Do that paperwork that’s in your office. And maybe tomorrow, we can all go for ice cream.”

His eyes widened. They were so soft and warm that Haley had never understood how he managed to glare at anyone. Apart from the people that had offered their sympathies at his father’s funeral, despite fully well knowing the truth.

“Really?”

“Yeah Aaron. Really. Now go upstairs and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She was, and it was like she had burst into his life in an explosion of light all over again.

Then George Foyet took that light and snuffed it out.

Haley once said she would die before Aaron hurt another person the way his father had hurt him. She said it because her death was so unlikely. It was an event that they knew would one day occur, but they never really thought about it. Though it was morbid, Aaron’s death was the one they had to prepare for. He was the one charging after dangerous criminals on a weekly basis. Haley was teaching.

Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to her because he had promised, with everything he was, that he would keep her safe and that the horrors of his job would never touch her.

But he hadn’t been quick enough. 

And now she was dead.

George Foyet had surrendered. He had surrendered willingly and without coercion, but Hotch hadn’t listened. He had carried on, even though his duty was to stop. To carry out a  
lawful arrest. But he hadn’t. He had carried on hitting a man that would not have been able to defend himself. Deep down he knew that was unfair to say. Foyet was taunting him by saying he was giving up.

Still, his knuckles ached. Morgan had pulled him off the body and he hadn’t been able to look. He couldn’t do it. So many things had already been destroyed by him. There was already so much blood on his hands, if he looked at Foyet he would never recover. 

He was worse than his father. At least his father was a human. At least his father had never touched Sean. His father had never- to his knowledge- even attempted to beat his mother to death. But he had. He had beaten a man to death, and the worst part was, he would do it all again. 

He would do it again because at least Jack was alive. Scared and confused, but alive. Hotch knew that if Jack had been the one to die, then he wouldn’t be here. He would’ve let Foyet kill him and vanish, as selfish as it was, because a life without his son was not one he wanted to live. After he found Haley, he knew he needed to consider the worst scenario: that Jack had not understood.

When Foyet told him that he would find Jack and show him his dead parents, something in him found the strength to survive. If Foyet was saying he would find Jack, then that would mean that he hadn’t already done so. Which meant Jack must’ve understood and was just waiting for his dad to come find him.

It was when Jack told him about how he had worked the case that the knowledge that Haley was dead hit him like a tonne of bricks. The first time he had found him, Jack had ran out and told his Mom what him and Daddy were doing together. Haley had smiled fondly before coming into the room, staring out the window instead of the desk.

Hotch had told her it was just a budget report. She looked down and did indeed see the budget sheet. But under that was the profile for a man who had recently lost his wife and was going after blonde mothers that resembled her.

There was blood all over his shirt and hands. Jack didn’t need to see that. The part of his brain not occupied with Haley knew that JJ was the best person for him to be with. She was good with children and had dealt with enough children of victims to know what to say and what to avoid.  
Victims. Because that was what Haley had become. A victim of a serial killer and it was all his fault.

If he had just been quicker. If he had taken the deal. If he had transferred when Haley asked him to. They probably would have still ended up divorcing, but she would be alive. Jack would have a real parent. One that could look at him without turning away. Haley’s blood was on his hands, and every time he looked at Jack, he saw her. Because Jack had his mother’s light hair and kind eyes.

The day Aaron died- and god that couldn’t come fast enough- would be the day that the last piece of his father finally left the earth. 

Haley’s hair was dark. That was the first thing he noticed when he saw her, lying on the ground. He’d heard people say that when someone died, you could kid yourself into thinking that they were just sleeping because they would look so peaceful. 

Haley’s mouth was a thin line. She smiled when she was sleeping. Her clothes were not the ones she would have picked herself. Her eyes were still open. Aaron hated that she died alone and afraid. That should’ve been him. And her hair was dark. He cursed himself for being surprised. Of course it was dark. She’d gone into WitSec. 

It just felt like a visual representation of everything he’d taken from her. Her light and innocence had been destroyed and it was all his fault. He hadn’t even told her Sam Kassmeyer was dead, which was such a stupid thing to fixate on, but anything to take away from the fact that she was gone.

When he pulled her limp, unmoving body towards him, needing to feel her against him one more time, she was still a little warm and he almost vomited right there. How close had they been that she wasn’t cold? He didn’t let go till Emily gently touched her shoulder, leading him away from the body. 

The team were shielding him from the various people that had responded to the scene and if he had more energy, he would say thank you. But he was tired. And his hands hurt so much. They were still trembling. 

Jack leant into his touch like it was nothing and Hotch marvelled at the fact that he seemed to adjust like it was nothing. He knew it was because he didn’t understand, but after everything that had been lost that day- two lives, a piece of Aaron, a place that was once home, the brightest light he’d ever met, Jack’s chance for a normal life- it felt like a win.

Before he knew it, the funeral was being held. He’d planned his eulogy, writing it whilst watching Jack because he couldn’t sleep without seeing the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest. There were a hundred different copies in the bin. How was he supposed to get up in front of everyone that looked to him and expected him to lead, and talk about Haley had made him feel safe? 

Attending Haley’s funeral hurt more than either of his parents had. He wasn’t sure if that made him a terrible person. But when his father had died, he’d been relieved. Not happy, but maybe a little grateful. And when his mother had died, Haley had been stood next to him, her grip on his hand grounding him.

This time, she was the one in the ground. And the only person grounding him was a little boy, so much like Sean- not quite understanding, but aware enough to know the person they loved wasn’t coming home.

He held it together through his speech. Jessica gave him a soft smile before she took his place, reciting her own eulogy. Haley’s mother wasn’t able to attend because she was too unwell so her father recited both their speeches, voice cracking and tears streaming down his face.

It showed just how broken he was. No self-respecting Southern man would ever be able to shed tears that freely.

“Thank you for saying something,” Jessica said to him when they were all sat down. The team were far away enough to not hear, and he suspected that was why she had finally spoken to him.

“Jessie, this is all my fault. It was the least I could do. And I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. To all of you.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Jessie. It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. Aar, I don’t blame you. I can’t. Because you did everything you could. I know that. And I heard you up there. You loved her. But you didn’t kill her. In fact, she’d kill me if I suggested such a thing. So forgive yourself. The rest of us have.”

“Jessica, why would you say something like that?” Roy shouted.

Jess flinched, unaware that her father had overheard everything.

Aaron shrunk down in his seat, unable to meet Roy’s eyes.

“You got my daughter killed. I trusted you. Even when nobody else did, when everybody said only bad things happened where Aaron Hotchner got involved, I trusted you. And when those people blamed you for what happened to your mother, I defended you. Because I knew you were a good man that would keep my daughter safe.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” Jessica said quietly.

“Yes it is! Yes. It is. My baby is dead, and it is all your fault. You promised me this would never happen. You swore. When your marriage died, I thought to myself: these things happen. They were young when they fell in love, perhaps they just grew up. But this- everything that has happened today? That’s on you. This is your fault. I wish it was you in the ground!”

Hotch flinched. “Roy, I-”

“It’s Mr Brooks to you now Hotchner. I treated you like a son. I- Haley did everything for you. Why weren’t you fast enough?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Why had he not been fast enough?

“Dad, I know you are angry, but Aaron is not the person to be taking it out on! Just because he’s here and it is convenient does not make it right. Haley loved him until the very last  
moment. Shouldn’t that be enough to be good to him?”

Aaron just wanted everyone to stop shouting.

“She didn’t love him at the very last moment! How could she, after everything he put her through?”

“It is Hotchner going on the gravestone, not Brooks,” Jessica snapped.

Both Roy and Aaron stared at her. Neither of them had known about that, and she immediately paled, as though she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

“What?” Roy spat.

“Haley called mom in the middle of the night in a panic. Said that if, somehow, this Foyet managed to find them, or if something happened, she wanted Hotchner to be on her gravestone because she loved Aaron.”

Roy’s hands were clenched at his sides and Aaron swallowed, subconsciously bracing himself for the blow that never came.

“I won’t do that to you. Ever. You may not be my son anymore, but I still would not harm you.”

Hotch exhaled, but Roy walked away before he could say anything. And the team got called away on a case.

“Did she really say that?” he asked Jessica, when it was just the two of them and their mugs of coffee. Jack had gone to sleep. 

Jessica tore her gaze away from the carpet. Derek had done an incredible job of making it seem like nothing happened, but she now knew better and the thought of what had gone down made her sick. She wished she could convince Aaron to move, but she knew it would never work. 

“Jess?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She did. I was going to say something to you earlier but it completely slipped my mind. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He nodded. Of course it would be okay with him. Whatever Haley had wanted from him, he would give her. It would be too little too late, but it would still be something. Maybe it would lead to Roy’s forgiveness.

It was that line of reasoning that led to him almost accepting retirement, because what else was he meant to do? But then Jessica had offered to take Jack, saying it was the least she could do and that it wouldn’t be any trouble and he had been confused.

The gravestone hadn’t been placed yet, but he still knew where she was buried. That surprised him, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really remember the actual funeral. He just remembered Roy’s words. Aaron found himself talking to the air in a way he never had before, and by the time Dave found him, he’d made his decision.

Jack needed a father that could teach him how to move on and be happy. Aaron needed the team to be happy. Jessica had given her blessing, and maybe it was psychological, but everything felt a little warmer after he told his best friend that Haley already knew.

It didn’t mean he was confident that he was making the right choice. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified of how the team would respond. What if they thought he was making the wrong choice?

But on his first day in the office, they all treated him normally. Like nothing had changed. And for that, he was grateful. Emily was- as always- the only one aside from Dave with the self-destructive streak to make a comment.

Although it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting.

“I’m glad you came back,” she told him as he packed up his things to go.

There was a look in her eyes that told him she was being genuine. Her approval, deep down, meant more to him than everyone else’s, including Dave. For her to come in and say that she was happy he was there and leading the team meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. It also showed how far they had come. She had gone from insulting him every other sentence to wanting him around. He had gone from not trusting her to only being able to tell her the truth about what had really happened in his apartment.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. If she had wanted it, she could have taken his job, no question. She wouldn’t- Derek was obviously the next Unit Chief- but she could have.

She smiled. “You keep us all safe, Aaron. How could I not?”

Emily’s hair was dark. As were her eyes. And there was a darkness that surrounded her in a similar way to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she had learnt to live with hers. She had turned it into something beautiful that made people love her.

Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps the darkness was something to welcome, not fear.

Emily Prentiss died, alone and cold, three times in one night. She died once when she told Derek Morgan to let her go because she genuinely believed Ian Doyle was still there, just waiting to hurt the people that had become her family. She flatlined in the ambulance, and Aaron had to watch as they frantically tried to revive her.

They succeeded in doing so, but at what cost? 

She died a third time when Hotch had to make the decision as to whether or not she stayed. He wanted to scream at the bureau and say that it couldn’t be left to him because it was Emily’s life and if she wanted to stay and fight then she should.

But they would interpret his screaming and pleading as weakness. They would use it to deem him incapable of impartiality and then he would never know what happened. So instead of crying the way he wanted to, he kept his face neutral and argued all the reasons that Agent Prentiss- not Emily, not now- needed to be sent away and saved.  
They went for it, and the prosecutor within him should have been proud. But it wasn’t. He was just tired.

Emily did not know that he had been in the ambulance and seen her die. She didn’t know that she had told him, whilst she was fading in and out of consciousness, about the darkness that she had seen and the chill that had come over her when she realised that she was dying or that he knew she wanted to believe in a better ending.

But Aaron did. It was why he found it so difficult to tell her what was happening. But he was already asking too much of JJ. JJ who was supposed to be a liaison for the state department and nothing more. But there was a haunted look in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her, but there just wasn’t time.

He needed to save Emily before it was too late. Or maybe it already was too late. Maybe she would have survived if his own darkness hadn’t joined hers. Maybe if he’d been quicker in getting JJ or working out what had happened.

The moment he saw his own smiling face staring up at him, he should have known what was happening. But he hadn’t. And now yet another person’s blood was on his hands. 

When would it end? When would the people he loved stop being hurt by a darkness that should have only ever destroyed him?

His father once said the only thing he was good at was destroying beautiful things. Aaron had so desperately wanted to prove him wrong that he only succeeded in proving him right. Emily Prentiss had once been beautiful and good. One of the strongest and most resilient women he knew.

Hotch wasn’t stupid. He saw the way JJ looked at her. That was the other reason he had to be the one to tell her. Because he had seen Jason in the aftermath of the Boston bombing and Elle after she shot the rapist. He knew what Spencer’s anger and Derek’s fear looked like. He had seen the worst of each of his team members and never faltered because their darkness was nothing compared to his.

The Emily laying on that bed, broken and damaged beyond what any normal person should have been able to survive, was not the Emily they knew and Hotch was not going to let it be the Emily that JJ would remember. He would let JJ go with her to Paris because she would be stronger then.

That would be the Emily she would remember.

“Emily? Can you hear me?” he asked as quietly as he could.

She turned slightly, but even that small movement seemed to cause her pain. She opened her mouth to speak and winced.

“Don’t talk. You’re still too weak to do that. I just, I need to tell you what’s going to happen, okay? Because a lot of things are going to change and I want you to know exactly how this is going to play out.”

His hands were shoved in his pockets. One of them needed to be strong and pretend that everything was going to be okay, and it sure as hell couldn’t be her. But she saw and tried to motion to him. He shook his head. Soon she would be leaving him, and he did not want to remember her touch as being cold and almost lifeless. He wanted to remember  
her touch as being warm and comforting.

Without looking at her, he told her how they were sending her to Paris. His voice did not tremble and he did not break but he couldn’t face her when he was done talking. Instead, he stared at the floor and focused on the white tiles. 

“I hate you,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me? I do not want to be sent to Paris whilst everyone else tries to deal with this.”

“Em. I’m trying to do the right thing,” he pleaded. He couldn’t have her hating him. Not after everything that had happened between them, and certainly not everything they had both done to gain the others trust.

“The right thing would have been to let me die,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and it was only a few days earlier. He had told Clyde Easter that if anything happened to her, he would destroy him. The knowledge that he could do it without even flinching should have terrified him, but it didn’t. In some morbid way, it relaxed him.

When he turned his back, the knowledge that he had disarmed the other man bought him more joy than it should have, and again he was reminded of how thin the line between profiler and unsub really was.

“Mr Hotchner,” Clyde had called out.

Hotch had frozen, hands clenched at his side. How many years had it been since someone last called him that? And yet he still couldn’t hear the title without thinking of his father. He was an adult now, the man shouldn’t have held that influence over him but he was still terrified and he hated himself for it.

He’d turned, just enough so he could see Clyde’s face.

“I did my part. If she dies, that’s on you.”

And it was. It was all his fault. She had trusted him to keep them safe, but he had failed. Again. He had destroyed her, just like he had destroyed so many other good people. He didn’t deserve to be a coward anymore, so he looked up and met her eyes.

Weak and damaged as she was, she still managed to glare with a hatred he had only ever seen once. When she had been a college student, arguing with her mother. And he’d been both terrified and relieved to see that she could be so ruthless. Terrified because to him, she was just a girl and she shouldn’t have known how to hate like that, but relieved because he wasn’t the only one with such potential for darkness inside.

He left without another word. JJ had comforted Reid and Garcia because he had been too busy throwing up the single bite of sandwich he’d managed to choke down. And he knew something had happened to her whilst she was working for the Pentagon. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stay.

It was why he let her take Emily to Paris. He didn’t tell her what Emily had said to him. He just told her to ask if she could remember anything from the hospital. He spent the entire time waiting for her to respond. He was talking to Dave when there was a text from JJ. All it said was she doesn’t remember anything she said.

And it became slightly easier to breathe.

The funeral was difficult.

First thing in the morning, he had dropped Jack off with Jessica. Jack did not know it was a funeral that his father was attending, and so he was quite content to just sit in the living room and play with his toys whilst Aaron and Jessica stood in the hallway, talking in hushed whispers.

“Don’t you think he should go?” she had asked.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He already went to Haley’s. I can’t take him to Emily’s.”

“But he should be able to say goodbye to her.”

“Jessie, please. I can’t tell you why, but he can’t go to the funeral and I swear, as soon as I can, I will tell you everything but he just- I need him to not be there.”

She stared at him. “Aaron, you never need to beg for anything from me. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jessica didn’t understand that him and JJ were the only one that knew the coffin was empty. It was the second coffin in a year that Aaron was forced to stand beside. When did it end? When would the members of his team stop losing the people they loved?

Ashley Seaver was a child and he never should have let her stay on the team after that first case. She was meant to be a training agent, who was supposed to believe that her job would make a difference and protect people from a life like the one she had been forced to live. And yet here she was, stood at the grave of a team member whilst the rest fell apart. Hotch wanted her to remain good and hopeful, but he just didn’t know how to do that.

In some ways, he resented JJ. She was able to go back to the Pentagon and get away from the looks of her coworkers. She didn’t have to look out of her office and see the empty table that had once been Emily’s, nor did she have to go through the drawers of her desk and decide what would be kept and what would be thrown.  
Aaron ended up keeping everything in a box at his apartment because he didn’t have the heart to throw anything away. Not when Emily wasn’t really dead, even though her photo was still hung up outside.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody. So, he ran off to Afghanistan for three months working on a project he didn’t fully understand or see the point in. The guilt at leaving his team and Jack only slightly overshadowed the relief he had that nobody looked at him and seeked comfort. They just needed him to do a job.

Everybody else had grieved losing Emily. JJ had her closure for making sure she was settled in Paris, and from what Hotch could understand, she had been pushing the boundary as much as she could regarding the no communication rule. The team had each other, but he had nobody.

Then Ian Doyle died, and Emily Prentiss came back to them, but he didn’t come back to the team. Not really. For Derek was able to forgive Emily for what she did because the relief  
he felt at her return was enough to overpower his anger at her. Dave had suspected the whole time. Spencer was just glad that he hadn’t lost someone else, and that JJ had also been returned to them.

They could forgive JJ because it had never been her decision to leave them. They could forgive Emily because of everything she had been through and because she had no say in what was done to her.

It was Hotch that had failed to stop the move from happening. It was him that had made the decision to fake Emily’s death and not tell the team. He had chosen to leave them, and his son, for the summer. Yes, it was unfair to blame him, and it was likely his hands had been tied, but they were angry. They needed someone to direct that anger towards.  
Every time they snapped at JJ or Emily, it felt like kicking a puppy for they would just look so hurt and upset that they immediately wanted to apologise. But if they shouted at Aaron, he would just take it. He wouldn’t argue or defend himself. He just took it, the ghosts behind his eyes not ones they could acknowledge in the moment.

He maintained his façade and pretended everything was okay because if he wasn’t okay, the team would have no use for him and he would become dispensable and there would be nothing left for him. Except for Jack. But he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Jack to see him. Since Emily’s return, his nightmares had gotten worse and he woke up screaming more times than he cared to admit.

And then one night, when Jack was staying with his cousins and grandfather, the nightmares got so bad that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was vomiting up the meagre dinner he’d eaten.

When there was nothing left, he leant against the bathtub and sobbed. His own team hated him and there was nothing he could do because they were right. He didn’t trust them and he had fucked up so badly there was no redemption for him.

Jessica hadn’t been able to sleep. She had let herself into the apartment to see how Aaron was because there was a pit in her stomach, like something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron?” she called out.

There was no response, which on the one hand could have been a good thing because it would mean he was sleeping, but it could also mean he was refusing to speak to anyone.  
She wasn’t an idiot. When Emily had come to see Jack after that hearing thing because she needed something good, Aaron told her the truth. And then lied by saying he was fine after carrying that burden around himself.

The bedroom was empty. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that he could just be in the shower or getting a glass of water. She crept along to the bathroom. Inside, he was vomiting and she knew it would eventually turn into sobs.

Without considering what she was doing, she dialled Derek Morgan’s number. He’d given it to her at the funeral and asked her to keep him safe. She had done her job as his sister, and now it was time for his team to their job as his family.

“Jessica?”

“Aaron’s sick and I think it’s your fault,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, no, not like that. I just- he’s being sick and I know that it’s because he’s been bottling everything up since the funeral which wasn’t really a funeral but oh, you know what I mean. I just- nothing I do will make him feel better. He needs you. All of you.”

On the other side of the line, Derek scoffed. “Jessica, Hotch is strong. Are you sure he’s not just got food poisoning or something?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough for that to happen.”

“Look Jessica, I’ll get the team together but I don’t know what you want us to do. Hotch made his decisions, and we can’t forgive him at the drop of a hat. We all need time to  
process.”

“Derek! He lost his wife to this job, are you really going to stand by as he loses himself trying to save all of you? I have never asked for anything from any of you, but Aaron needs you now. He’s just too scared of rejection to admit it.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Morgan hung up and Jessica sighed.

“Jessie?” Aaron called out.

“Hey Aaron. What happened?” she asked, acting like nothing had happened.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered. 

She pressed a hand to his stomach. Damn him and his emotional constipation that meant all of his pain manifested physically. 

“I know. I know. But it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you’re going to eat something.”

He nodded and let her move him around as she pleased. The weight he had lost made her cringe. The last time he had looked so weak, he was seventeen and his father was dying of lung cancer.

The team all arrived at the same time, all in their pyjamas.

Aaron saw them and turned away. “Jessie, what are they doing here?”

“You need them Aaron. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need them.”

He shook his head as the medication Jessica had made him take after weeks of avoidance caused his filter to vanish and fuzziness as to what he was doing. “Don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah you do man. I’m sorry for how I was acting. I know you trust us and I never thought about how everything must have made you feel because I was angry,” Derek said.  
Hotch shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?” Derek asked.

Hotch didn’t respond, so Derek sat in front of him instead. “You’re forgiven Hotch. I promise.”

Hotch just stared but relaxed ever so slightly and didn’t protest when the other members of the team gave him small smiles or hugged him. 

And the next day, they spoke to him, not as a boss, but as their friend. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was back where he belonged. Things weren’t perfect- they never were- but he no longer felt like the villain in his own story.

He felt like he was worthy of a small amount of love, which meant the darkness had not won. Not completely.

There were cases that were difficult. There were cases that made him want to quit, or curl into a ball and forget about how the outside world existed and was constantly hurt innocent people that didn’t deserve it. And there were cases that he knew would haunt him until the day he died.

Watching Jimmy lose his fight, the one thing that kept him going, just so he would be able to see his son one last time was something he would keep seeing every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how he was the first one to realise that was what he wanted.

The team had all been waiting in various places, and he knew it wasn’t really what he was supposed to be doing, but when he looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a desperate  
father. And he thought of Jack. If it were Jack, he would do whatever it took to see him one last time. He deserved to see his son. And his son deserved a father.

Because when he looked at Jimmy he did not see the unsub his team had been after. He saw a broken and damaged man that was doing what it took to survive. Under normal circumstances, he’d been frightened by that but so much had happened that he almost felt desensitised when it came to relating to unsubs. His hands still went cold at the sight of every crime scene he visited. The bureau therapist would say the fact that he clung to that feeling both at home and in the field was unhealthy, but the bureau therapist had also deemed Jason, Elle, Spencer, himself and Emily fit for work after their respective ordeals.

“This isn’t a trick is it? Because you’re a federal agent, this isn’t your job,” he said.

“I’m a father first. And your son is holding on so he can say goodbye to you. I’m not so heartless that I would deprive you of a goodbye.”

He pressed a hand to his mouth. “He’s really going to- I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Am I a horrible person for not being here sooner?”

Hotch still blamed himself for not being there when his mother died. “No. No you did your best and you cannot think like that. I promise, when it came to your son, you have done  
nothing wrong. I’ll give you some privacy.” He hated to add the second part but he had to. “And I don’t want to, but you must understand-”

“I broke the law and you need to arrest me. I know. That’s fine. Everything will be fine because you have let me say goodbye to my baby.”

Aaron watched them through the window, a single tear coursing down his cheek as that was all he would allow himself until he made it home.

Sometimes, it was not the cases that made him question the reason behind doing any of this, but these moments where there was nothing that anyone could have done. They spent so much time putting bad guys away, and for what? The universe to just throw other tragedies in people’s faces.

Ryan closed his eyes at the same time that Aaron looked away. The raw grief both parents were feeling was something personal. He already felt like an intruder. He saw the man comfort his wife, who’s sobs had died down to silent tears as she placed a final kiss to her boy’s forehead.

They comforted each other.

Aaron wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t saved Jack from George Foyet. If he would still be alive now, or if he would have just let Foyet kill him because a life without Jack was not one he was capable of surviving. He wondered if Haley had survived instead, would they have been able to comfort each other, or would she blame him for the loss of her son? If Jack hadn’t survived, Hotch did not want to think of what his response would have been because the darkness of it scared him.

No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no child should ever have to be that strong for their parent. He admired Ryan for holding on for as long as he did, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have been playing games with the other children and worrying about his favourite cartoon characters, not how many breaths he had left.  
He stood outside for longer than he should have and he was gentler with the handcuffs than he ever remembered being. The last words he whispered were an apology that Jimmy did not want. Before he returned to the hotel, he stopped to see his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “And if I knew what to say, I would. But I don’t so please, just, find a reason to hold on. Anything.”

“Agent Hotchner, you gave my son the one thing he wanted. A chance to say goodbye to both his parents. That has to be enough for now.” She hugged him and was polite enough to not comment on how his own body shook with the tears he was unable to repress.

He gave her his card, and then he left her, alone, to process her losses.

On board the jet, he sat slightly apart from the rest of them, which they all took as their cue to leave him alone. Emily Prentiss had never liked listening to him, and so she took the seat opposite him. Hotch had to smile. That was the woman he knew. Not the one that was overcompensating for everything.

“I made you a cup of tea,” she said to him.

Hotch looked down at the mug and grimaced slightly. 

“Jason did the same thing after the case with the serial arsonist. Do you remember? He was trying to get me to open up about how I related to the unsub.”

“Did you?”

Hotch shook his head, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose I did a little. He wasn’t really paying attention.”

Emily made a non-committal sound at that. “Look I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Ryan just- he didn’t even look like Jack, but when I saw him, I just- they were a normal couple. They didn’t deserve to lose him like that.”

“Nobody deserves to lose someone they love that much like that. But they do. And we can’t stop that. What we can do is stop the bad guys who hurt other people and we do, whenever we can. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He understood what she was saying, but he couldn’t accept it. Haley had been too good for him, and he deserved to have everything good taken from him because he hadn’t been able to save her when it had been his fault that she was forced into that situation.

She smirked. “And Rossi may have mentioned a woman making her way into your life. Beth is it?”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. And it is just a bike ride.”

“You should go. Even if nothing happens, training is better with a partner. And you won’t be betraying Haley. Or Jack. If this thing works out, it will be because Beth understands that Jack doesn’t want or need another mom.”

Hotch looked at her with soft eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I should go.”

He did, and it was such a success that they ended up going on more than one date. She was excited to meet Jack, and they both loved each other. Even the team, who were always weary of potential partners, seemed to accept her as one of their own.

It momentarily convinced him that love could survive the horrors of their job.

The sound of the gun that Diane Turner shot herself and Maeve Donovan with sounded louder than even the three shots he had heard over the phone when George Foyet took Haley from him. His ear started ringing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex close hers and lower her gun.

What had been thinking? Alex had already lost a son, and every case put the one she had just found at risk. Even now, she had the sense to look away. He was still holding his gun like there was something he could do.

Before he was aware of his actions, he had dropped it. Something that he always told people not to do, especially if the safety was off because you just couldn’t guarantee anything. The sound it made as it hit the ground was still nothing compared to Spencer’s sobbing.

Reid was on his knees, eyes closed as though that would stop him from seeing Maeve’s dead body, both her and Diane’s forming a pool around them. It would be another funeral for him to attend. It wasn’t fair. Reid was still just a kid compared to the rest of them, he didn’t deserve to see all the things he had been subjected to.

Hotch knelt beside him. “Reid?” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as quiet as he could.

Reid shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve done something. There were so many different endings to this series of events and at least half of them involved Maeve living and me dying, which is something everyone could have learnt to live with.”

“Spencer. That isn’t true,” he said, a lot more firmly.

Spencer’s sobs had calmed to hiccups. “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

“I know,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around him. He felt Reid go limp against him as more sobs wracked his body. Reid was resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder and on instinct, he felt himself stroke the younger one’s hair, the same way he did to Jack when the little one couldn’t sleep.

He knew that grief caused people to go numb. When Reid pulled away, he kept one hand on his arm to stop him from being an idiot. Only Alex was still there, hovering by the side lines. The others had gone to stop the police from coming in too soon. They were giving Spencer the space to process.

Hotch wished they hadn’t. Jason and Emily were the ones that Reid turned to when he needed something. And if not them, then Derek and maybe JJ. But Jason and Emily were gone and Derek and JJ were dealing with other things.

And he was the only one who’s partner had ever been murdered by an unsub. He just didn’t know how to provide comfort. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell Spencer that everything was going to be fun and he would recover because the truth was that he would never be the same. Aaron still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t possible, but sometimes his lower torso still ached the same way it had when Foyet first pushed the knife in. He wouldn’t lie to Spencer, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

“I need- I never got to hold her. I need to hold her. Hotch let me go! I need to hold her, just once. Just once so I can remember her.”

The last time Hotch touched Haley, she was barely warm, but still lifeless. It overshadowed every single casual touch they’d shared since they were seventeen and it was all he could ever think of when he remembered her. He would give anything to forget the last time he held her. 

Perhaps one day he would. But Spencer had an eidetic memory.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

Spencer shoved him. He wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but Hotch hadn’t been expecting it and he lost his balance slightly. They both looked down at Reid’s hands. Reid  
looked at them like he couldn’t believe they were part of his body. Hotch looked down at how pure they were.

Reid had killed unsubs when it was the only way to save other people, but he was still innocent in so many other ways. He’d never hit the table to intimidate a suspect because that was Hotch’s job. He was the one that played bad cop, whilst they trusted Reid to successfully empathise.

Reid had never killed a man with their bare hands. 

Hotch momentarily let go of Reid, and Reid tried to use that opportunity to grab Maeve’s hand. But Hotch was quicker, and before Spencer knew what was going on, Hotch had grabbed both his wrists and was holding them in front of his chest.

Both their eyes shone with tears. 

“Let me go,” Spencer begged.

“No. Spencer listen to me. You don’t want your one and only memory of her touch to be when she couldn’t respond. You know better than me that she is going to be unresponsive. You won’t be able to kid yourself into thinking that she did indeed clasp your hand. Her perfume will be tinged with the stench of blood and she will be cold. Remember Maeve as the woman that made you smile. That was warm and bright. Not like this.”

Spencer relaxed against him, the tears falling. Hotch pulled him closer, holding him tight. At some point, Alex crept forward and gave the two of them a hug. She told them they needed to go. Reid shook his head. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down the stairs.

“I want to go to my apartment,” Reid stated after they took his statement. Hotch had sat with him the whole time. Reid’s monotony scared him and he wondered if the look on the officer’s face was the same as the one that been on Strauss’ after he spoke about Foyet.

“Spence,” JJ said, reaching for him.

“My apartment. Please. Hotch?”

Hotch knew why Reid had asked for it to be him. Because if he declined, Reid could come after him. Say that when Haley died, leaving behind a young son whose memories of his father were patchy and disrupted, Hotch had refused to stay with anyone. Instead, he had sat in the darkness of his apartment in case the monsters from Jack’s dreams came to  
life once more.

“If you need anything,” he said with a sigh, because he was the only one that understood. 

Spencer nodded. But Hotch knew he wouldn’t.

They drove in silence. Hotch itched to say something but what? He understood what it was like to lose the one person that made your life better, but at the end of the day, he hadn’t been there. He had heard it over the phone. Spencer would see the images every time he closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

Reid shook his head, exited the car but did not close the door.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid’s pause meant he heard him. His lack of response meant he didn’t have any words of comfort that would not be lies. Perhaps that hurt more than Jessica’s sad smile when he got him and distractedly ruffled Jack’s hair, unable to focus on what he was saying properly.

He’d made the right decision in not letting Spencer touch the body. He knew he had. It didn’t stop him from wrapping Jack up in the coat Haley had picked and going to her grave. He knew Jack was missing his mom, so the trip served a dual purpose.

Jack liked to lay flowers at the graves that didn’t have any because- in his words- it would mean everyone would be as happy as his mommy was. As he did that, Hotch spoke. 

“I didn’t let him touch her. I need to convince myself that was the right thing, but what if it wasn’t? I have years of touches to hold onto. He had never met her before then. What if  
one day, he wakes up and resents me because he can’t even imagine what she feels like?”

If Haley were alive, she would rub his shoulder and tell him he was a good man that needed to stop doubting every decision he made because he knew his team better than they knew themselves and that Reid would never hate him.

Be annoyed at him for specific things he did and lash out because he was in the wrong, yes. But hate him? Never.

Only Haley wasn’t alive. Hotch sighed, called Jack over and hesitated slightly when Jack held his hand out. Hours before, he had been holding a gun, ready to fire. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now another piece of Spencer had been lost to the abyss.

When Spencer didn’t return to work immediately, he was relieved. At least he was taking the time he needed to grieve and recover instead of rushing back and never dealing with the pain until it got so bad he could hardly breathe without holding back a sob.

He turned up on their case. Everyone else was excited to see him, because it meant he was alive. Hotch wasn’t so sure. Reid had never known anything other than the BAU, and that was partially his fault for not putting his foot down and telling Gideon the kid needed more experience before working as a profiler.

But there were people that needed saving, so he let it go. 

And then he heard Spencer tell Dave how he wasn’t sleeping because he kept seeing Maeve asking him to dance but he had never been able to touch her. It was like a punch to the gut. Spencer had never touched Maeve because Hotch had told him not to, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t hear Dave’s response. He used that moment to tell Alex he needed the bathroom. She seemed slightly taken aback but shifted out the way for him.

When Spencer came in after that, he seemed peaceful. He had danced with Maeve. Now, even though it wasn’t real, he had his closure because he’d been able to touch her, which was all he had wanted. Maybe it had something to do with being touch-starved.

Hotch thought of Haley. What would he give to see her one last time? Just to say he was sorry?

He was telling the team about a missing girl, but it was getting harder to breathe, and he couldn’t make out what the screen in front of him was displaying.

Before he knew what was happening, the world around him was going black and the frantic shouts of his team were not enough to bring him back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

“Haley?” he whispered.

She looked beautiful. Her dress shone, and her hair was the same blonde it had been the day she’d gone into witness protection. She looked like the girl that had exploded into his life and taught him how to say I love you. That had taught him the meaning of light and who had changed his life forever.

“Hi baby,” she said with a grin. 

He smiled. His light had come back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess you could call this an early christmas present? there's no sort of expected upload for the third chapter (i kinda don't have a plot for it beyond causing hotch as much pain as is humanely possible so yeah)
> 
> i'm a lot more active on my tumblr now cos i literally just post shit and hope for the best, so yeah, if you want to follow it, it's yourlocalheartbreaker 
> 
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, if you made it this far, i love you.
> 
> this will be three chapters. i have a rough outline for the next two, but #morehotchcontent2020 is coming up, so the updates may be a bit slow. stay tuned!
> 
> and (shameless self promo) if you want to read my drabbles, headcanons and just random thoughts, head on over to my tumblr! it's: yourlocalheartbreaker
> 
> xoxo


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